


Cut Off and Carrying On

by DracoTerrae



Series: Keep On Carrying On [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist Clarke, Bartender Bellamy, Bellamy Blake is a History & Mythology Nerd, Bellarke, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, POV Multiple, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 04:30:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 48,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7493868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DracoTerrae/pseuds/DracoTerrae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being cut-off by her mom, Clarke can no longer afford her apartment. Luckily, her best friend Octavia has a recently vacated extra bedroom. The only problem: Octavia's brother, Bellamy, with whom Clarke has never been able to get along. </p><p>Your typical Bellarke blossoming affection slow-burn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Octavia?” Clarke said into her phone, her voice cracking slightly.

“What is it, Clarke?! What’s the matter?” Octavia, Clarke’s best friend and college roommate answered, panicked at what could make Clarke sound on the verge of tears.

“So, you know how I’ve been avoiding telling my mom about dropping out of Med School?”

“Yeah…” Octavia prompted, worried.

“Well, she found out. They returned her tuition check…she’s pissed. Madder than I thought…” Clarke took a deep breath, trying to gain control over her voice which was shaking with emotion. “She said…she said that if I’m not going to follow her wishes and become a doctor and ‘make something of yourself instead of wasting away your life with a paintbrush’” Octavia could just imagine Abby Griffin’s voice screaming at her only daughter after getting the check in the mail, not caring that her daughter had been killing herself at undergrad and the first year at Med School, hating every minute of it. Clark continued, “She said that she’s cutting me off. No money, nothing, and to not even think of trying to come home until I am back at school.” Clarke let a sob escape.

“Give me five minutes. Grabbing my keys as we speak. I’ll be at your place as soon as I can.” Octavia told her friend, slipping on a pair of flip-flops. “Where is my goddamn purse?” she muttered.

“That’s the thing, O. She cut me off. She’s not paying for my apartment anymore. She’s even called my landlord who says I have to be out by the end of the weekend. They didn’t even give me a chance to see if I could swing the rent on my own. Not that I probably could, but I don’t know what I’m going to do, where I’m going to go…”

Octavia stopped her struggle to reach her purse which had gotten shoved far under her bed, “You’re going to stay with me of course,” she told her friend matter-of-factly. “Raven moved in with Wick a couple weeks ago and I’ve been putting off making an ad for another roommate. And I don’t know who I would rather come live with me, it’ll be just like we’re back at Augie.”

“Are you sure, O?” Clarke asked tentatively.

“One hundred percent. I’m on my way now. We can pack you up and have you at my place by the end of the day.”

* * *

Several hours later Clarke, Octavia, and Raven (who had been recruited as soon as she got off work) were sitting on the balcony of Clarke’s ex-apartment looking at the skyline of the city and passing around a bottle of rosé. Through the screen door was a spacious one bedroom apartment, it was on the top floor of high end apartment building in the richest part of the city, complete with cherry hardwood floors, granite countertops, stainless steel appliances, not to mention the Jacuzzi spa bath; the living room now filled with cardboard boxes that held all of Clarke’s possessions.

“I’m going to miss this view.” Clarke sighed, taking a sip from the bottle.

“I’m going to miss that good looking front desk assistant.” Octavia replied with a giggle.

Raven smiled teasingly, “He’s probably going to miss seeing the girl who stuck her tongue down his throat last New Year’s proclaiming everyone deserves a New Year kiss. I mean, I barely get a nod of acknowledgement when I visit Clarke, but you get a smile and flowers.”

“Oh, god! Are you never going to let me live that down? I had just broken up with Atom and I only ever got flowers that one time!” Octavia exclaimed, lightly slapping the thin, dark haired girl on the arm.

Clarke laughed at her two best friends, two dark beauties who made her stand in stark contrast. While their tan and olive faces were framed with long, dark hair, her pale one was outlined with a shining gold. “Well, maybe she can bat her eyes at him tonight and we can get some help moving these boxes. I really don’t want to lug them all down to my car.” Clarke paused, “Oh god, what if she takes away my car too!”

“She wouldn’t do that; it was a gift for your sweet sixteen from her and your dad.” Octavia assured her.

“Plus the title and everything is in your name now anyway,” Raven added, ever the practical one, especially when it was anything remotely related to cars or engines. She was currently working at her boyfriend Kyle Wick’s auto-body and mechanic shop, as well as on a degree in aerospace engineering.

“Maybe can call the boys and guilt trip them into helping with the boxes. I think Jasper said his shift at The Drop Ship doesn’t start until nine.” Octavia pulled out her phone and searched her contacts, “Hey Jasper,” she said after a few rings, “So, Clarke has a big favor to ask you and we’ll love you forever if you help out…yes, we already do love you…I understand that you’re about to cream Monty in your video game, but we need his help too…so, long story short, Clarke is moving in with me and we need to get her stuff to my apartment…we’ll explain when you guys get here…okay fine…yeah, I’ll tell her, see you in a bit!” She hung up the phone. “Jasper and Monty will be here in twenty. They said they’ll only help if you supply pizza and beer for the post-move.”

Clarke laughed, “Yeah. That I can do. At least my mom can’t get me fired. Though, I bet she would if she could. Somehow I don’t think me working at an art conservation center really fits in with her ‘my daughter, the doctor’ scheme.”

“Oh yeah! I’ve been meaning to ask how that’s going!” Raven exclaimed.

“You’ve been a little caught up in the move in together honeymoon.” Clarke said, winking at her friend. “But it’s going well. I love it! Especially, getting to look at all the old paintings and bringing them back to their former glory. Not to mention, my boss said they’ll pay for me to get a degree in art history and art conservation when classes start next fall.”

“Looks like you don’t need your mom’s money anyway.” Octavia said with a smile.

Clarke smiled and went off on a tangent about a piece she was working on the other day for the city’s art museum, her two friends nodding along; they were used to Clarke’s art rants by now.

Before long there was a knock on the door and two boys were admitted, one was tall and skinny sporting a mop of brown hair and a goofy grin, the other, of clear Asian descent, was laughing at something the first had just said.

“Jasper, Monty!” Octavia said, “And Miller!” she added as she say a third man enter the apartment. “Glad you got roped into this, too. Some real muscles.” Miller had been in the army with Octavia’s brother Bellamy, as well as their sort-of-friend, Murphy.

“Hey,” the other two guys said in unison with an offended tone.

“I think they grabbed me more for my truck than anything,” Miller offered with a chagrined smile.

“Well, good thinking. Let’s get this show on the road,” Clarke said as she grabbed the first box.

Within the next two hours and between Clarke’s, Raven’s, and Miller’s vehicles, all of Clarke’s belongings were now taking residence in a new living room. “Well, all I’ve got to do is return my keys, get a new set from you, and I guess onwards and upwards,” The last bit ending in a question. Clarke sighed leaning on her best friend.

“Don’t forget the pizza,” called Jasper.

“And beer!” Monty added.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Octavia are both 23, Bellamy and Lincoln (who will be named eventually) are both 28. Other people I haven't really thought about too much...Raven and Wick are probably around 24 and 27/28 respectively, Jasper and Monty are probably around 21-22, Miller and Murphy are probably close to 26-28.


	2. Chapter 2

Two days later, Clarke rolled out of bed and shuffled sleepily into the kitchen to start the coffee maker, barely opening her eyes; her brain had a functioning level of zero before the first cup of coffee. She had spent all of Saturday unpacking and arranging her new room to her liking, lucking out that Raven had decided to leave her bed and dresser behind when she moved in with Wick. Octavia had helped, and by helped Clarke meant, Octavia had sat on Clarke’s bed and chatted incessantly about how awesome it was that they got to live together again. Their first year at university they had been randomly placed together. Both had been nervous about all the horror stories they heard about random roommates, but it turns out Augustana couldn’t have made a better selection for the girls and they continued to live together for all four years, becoming inseparable. Clarke poured herself a cup of coffee, adding an ample amount of sugar, and held it close to her face savoring the smell and warmth.

“Awe, Princess, I didn’t know you knew how to make your own coffee,” a deep voice resonated from the doorway.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Bellamy? Don’t you have your own apartment?” Clarke said, lowering her mug to the counter.  
Octavia’s brother and Clarke had never been able to get along and Clarke had no idea what she had done to get him to dislike her so much. She swore Bellamy hated her before she had ever said “Hello” the first time they met. But if he was going to hate her for no goddamn reason, she sure as Hell wasn’t going to be nice to him. And thus their relationship had been tense and full of snarky remarks for the past six years, though they both tried to keep at least somewhat civil when they were around Octavia, not always succeeding.

Bellamy snatched Clarke’s mug from the table taking a sip, “Dear god, how much sugar did you put in this?” With a disgusted look he went to the sink, dumped out the contents of the mug and poured himself a fresh cup. This time he took a sip of black coffee and sighed contentedly, “Much better.”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? And I repeat, why aren’t you at your own apartment?” Clarke said, her voicing rising in anger.

It was at this time that a sleepy Octavia joined the two of them in the kitchen. “Please don’t tell me you bothered her before she had her coffee, Bell. You guys have a hard enough time getting along when she’s properly caffeinated.” Octavia made her way over to the coffee making grabbing two mugs and filling them with coffee.

“You know where my coffee is? Down the sink because your jackhole of a brother can’t get his own mug! And for the third time,” Clarke said turning to the male Blake sibling, “why are you here?!”

Octavia slid a fresh cup of properly sugared coffee over to Clarke, “He crashes on the couch when he has a late shift at the Drop Ship sometimes; it’s so much closer than his apartment and then I don’t have to worry about him getting across town at four in the morning. Sorry I forgot to mention it to you, it sort of slipped my mind until I was woken up by loud voices this morning.”

“It’s fine.” Clarke said sipping her coffee, “I’m going back to my room.” She walked away unable to put up with Bellamy before her first cup of coffee. “Maybe I can go back to bed and magically wake up to a better morning,” she muttered to herself

* * *

 “Why do you antagonize her?” Bellamy’s sister asked him.  
He shrugged, “I don’t know. She so easy to rile up. What’s she doing here anyway? She’s complaining about me being at my apartment, shouldn’t she be at hers too?”

“This is her apartment now. I thought Jasper, or Miller, or someone would have told you.”

Bellamy gave his sister a bewildered look. “Doesn’t she have some swanky place on the upper east side that her mom pays for?”

“Not anymore, Bell,” Octavia said, lowering her voice, “Her mom cut her off and got her kicked out of her apartment when she found out Clarke dropped out of Med School. She didn’t have anywhere else to go, and with Raven having moved out, I grabbed the chance to get back to living under the same roof as my best friend. She’s trying to hold it together, but all she’s got right now is a part time job at the conservation center. She loves it, but I’m not sure how well it pays.” Octavia sighed. “And Bell, you will be civil with her and let her drink her coffee in peace if you want to continue being able to crash on the couch, not to mention keep your manhood. She was actually pretty tame this morning for not having coffee in her. One time she dumped her bowl of cereal on a guy in the dorm who had taken the last bit of coffee in the dining hall. And that was the guy she was crushing on at the time.”

Clarke actually having to work for a living? ‘Bout damn time, Bellamy thought to himself. That little princess had had everything handed to her in life, now she’s finally getting a chance to see what life was like for everyone else, the question of whether or not that rent check was going to be paid on time.

Bellamy normally wasn’t that harsh on people, but he could still remember when Octavia had started college and he had been saving up all the money he could spare so that he could buy her a nice futon or TV or something for her dorm. Right when he was about to surprise her with the shopping trip, she had come squealing into his room in their small, run-down two bedroom, shouting about how she had the best roommate ever! Clarke Griffin had just messaged her saying that her parents were taking them to four different furniture stores, all top quality, to find the perfect things for their dorm room. Two hours later, a BMW was pulling up in front of their house and a blonde girl was assaulted as Octavia had run out to give her a hug, always the overly outgoing and friendly person. Later that evening, Bellamy had listened on the phone as Octavia excitedly described all the nice things they got, as well as Clarke’s huge and gorgeous house at which O was spending the night in one of the five spare bedrooms, complete with en-suite. Bellamy had nodded along with murmurs of agreement, internally seething that this new little rich girl could just waltz into his sister’s life and give her all the things that Bellamy couldn’t. When Spring Break rolled around and Clarke paid for her and Octavia to go to Cancun for the week, it was just the icing on the cake.

“Bell? Did you hear me?” Octavia interrupted his thoughts, “Be civil.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll try,” he acquiesced, hating to make his sister upset, “But if she starts something, I’m not going to be the one to back down.”

“Fair enough.” Octavia said. “I’m hopping in the shower. Lunch when I get out?”

“Of course.” Bellamy said, happy not to be losing their Sunday tradition.


	3. Chapter 3

Clarke didn’t bother to look up from the book she was reading when she heard her door open.

“I’m gonna hop in the shower. Want to grab some lunch when I get out?” Octavia asked.

“Yeah, sure,” Clarke said absentmindedly. Then before the door could close all the way, her head snapped up, “Wait, don’t you go out to lunch with your brother every Sunday?” she asked suspiciously.

Octavia’s head re-emerged, complete with a guilty smile, “Yeah, but I thought we could all go together.” Clarke returned the statement with a stare. Octavia continued, “You know, talk, hang out, get you and Bell to a point where I’m not worried about waking up to one or the other of you strangled dead on the floor of my living room.”

“Yeah, not really in the mood to go out to lunch with your coffee stealing brother.”

“Please!” Octavia said, giving Clarke her best puppy eyes and pouting her lower lip. “Bellamy said he’d be willing to have you come with us.”

“Did he, now?”

“Yup, totally did.” Octavia clipped before intensifying her puppy look, “Please, Clarke, at least try to get along with my brother a little. You’re the two most important people in my life and I hate that you guys don’t get along.”

“And I hate it when you play that card.” Clarke said glaring despite being on the verge of giving in. Why did Octavia always have to give her that look when Clarke didn’t want to do something? Too many times in college Clarke had put off her homework to watch a movie or go out or be otherwise unproductive because Octavia was giving her that look. And then whenever it came to Bellamy the very card that Octavia had just played would be laid out on the table, and Clarke’s guilt at making her friend unhappy would surface and, and…“Fine!” Clarke let out an exasperated sigh.

“Yay! Thanks, Clarke! I’ll be out of the shower shortly and then we can go!” And with that Octavia left Clarke alone to change and put on some make-up.

* * *

 

Thirty minutes later Clarke was following Octavia into the living room where Bellamy was waiting. He stood up from the couch as he heard footsteps, turned around and stopped, “She’s not coming, is she?” He looked questioningly at Octavia.

“You said he was good with this.” Clarke said, turning her gaze to the dark-haired girl.

“Well, I’m not. Sunday is mine and O’s thing.”

“Fine with me. Didn’t want to eat lunch with you anyway.” Clarke turned and started to walk back to her room but was stopped by Octavia grabbing her arm.

“No. You’re not getting out of this.” She told Clarke. “And, Bell, you said you’d try.”

“Yeah, I’d try to be civil with her. Not go out to lunch with you and her and pretend we’re all friends and everything is fine and dandy.”

“Come on, B,” Octavia turned her power of the puppy eyes on her brother, “It’s just lunch. For me? Please?”

Bellamy took a deep breath, caving under the puppy eyes quicker than Clarke had, “Fine.” He said with a huff.

* * *

 

They sat in silence around a table at an outdoor café. Before Octavia could try for her third time to start a conversation, the waitress, a young girl who looked about sixteen, came over, “Hi, I’m Charlotte, and I’ll be helping you today. Are you guys ready for a drink order?”

“I don’t know about them,” Clarke said with a glare towards Bellamy, “but I’ll have a cup of coffee.”

“You’d better bring extra sugar packets then, too.” Bellamy said wryly with a returning look for Clarke. “I’ll just have a water,” he told their waitress.

“Diet Coke for me,” Octavia chimed.

“Alrighty, I’ll be right back with those drinks for you.” Charlotte said as she slipped her pad of paper and pen into her apron, oblivious to the tension at the table.

Silence resumed, “So, Bell, how is your thesis coming along?” Octavia asked.

“Long, difficult, exhausting, frustrating.”

“Care to expand on any of that?” Octavia pushed, knowing that if she could just get him talking about his paper, she wouldn’t be able to get him to shut up.

Bellamy sighed, “Right now I’m just stuck on part of a translation of Ovid’s Metamorphoses. Every time I think I’m satisfied with my translation, I pick up on something in the Latin that I just can’t get into English with the right vibe. I waver back and forth between translating the word literally and translating the meaning behind the words, but nothing seems to express what Ovid is saying in the right way.” Bellamy raised an eyebrow at Octavia who had gotten a big grin on her face and a twinkle in her eye. “What?”

“You should have Clarke take a look!” Octavia said excitedly before turning to the other person at the table, “You took, what, eight years of Latin?”

“Yeah,” Clarke said, drawing her lips into a line. “Four in high school, four in college.”

“Pft, you would go to a high school that taught Latin,” Bellamy muttered.

“And then you had that Classic Comparative Mythology class that you loved, too! That’s basically what Bellamy’s doing for this thesis! You guys could totally talk about this!” Octavia exclaimed while ignoring her brother’s comment.

“I took that class like three years ago, I’m not going to remember anything from it!” Clarke said, back pedaling before Octavia could rope her into something neither she nor Bellamy wanted.

“Yeah you do! You brought it up just the other day when we were watching that new Hercules movie.”

“I, uh…that was the only thing I remember from the class…”

“You’re a horrible liar, Clarke. And even if that’s true, you could still take a look at the Latin. That I know you know! You still read your Latin books so you don’t get out of practice.”

“I, uh—”

“Here’s your drinks,” Charlotte said with a big smile, placing their drinks in front of them, “You ready to order or do you still want a few minutes?”

Clarke’s shoulders relaxed at the interruption. “I think we’re ready,” she said, grateful for anything to get away from the direction of the conversation. She then realized she hadn’t even looked at the menu. “Ummm…” she said, desperately flipping through the pages and naming the first thing that stood out to her, “I’ll have the grilled chicken quesadillas.”

Bellamy and Octavia placed their orders and right when Octavia was about to resume the conversation her phone rang, “It’s a client from work, I’m going to take this.” She got up from the table and walked outside, a small smile on her face as she said hello.

“Grilled chicken quesadillas and coffee?” Bellamy said with a smirk, “Sounds delicious.”

“Shut up.” Clarke replied.

Tense silence returned to the table, both left to their own thoughts for a minute. Bellamy shifted uncomfortably, clearly having an internal debate. He groaned, “As much as I hate to say it, or ask it, especially of you. I could really use a fresh pair of eyes on my thesis. My advisor has already looked at it and said I was on a good track, and I’ve already bothered the other Masters and PhD students enough and they’ve all got their own stuff to worry about. And you’re my last resort, and it’s only because you’ve had a lot of Latin experience that I even considered what my sister was suggesting. And—”

“Email it to me or drop off a copy at the apartment, I’ll take a look.” Clarke said, cutting him off.

“Thank you,” Bellamy replied in nearly a whisper.

“Yeah,” Clarke grunted. “No problem.” After a long moment thinking about how she told Octavia should would make an effort with Bellamy, she added, “Why don’t you tell me more about your thesis. That way I can have more of a grasp of what you’re talking about when I look at it.”

From there the conversation resumed with Bellamy telling her about what he was working on, while Clarke nodded her head and offered up small comments. Octavia returned, and joined the conversation, mostly just with the head nodding; her only knowledge of Classics came from the stories her brother told her as a child and his rambles as he took his college courses. She didn’t say anything about Clarke and Bellamy talking to each other without their usual underlying tension, but Clarke could tell by the shit-eating grin, that she was ecstatic. Then again, she had a grin on her face before she even joined the table again, apparently it was a good phone call. The rest of lunch went smoothly as long as they kept the conversation focused on Bellamy’s thesis. At least, it went smoothly until the check appeared.

“Here you go, I can take it whenever you’re ready,” Charlotte said with a smile. Octavia was the quickest to grab it, “I’ve got this, guys. I made you both come out to a lunch neither of you wanted, so my treat.”

“You don’t have to do that, O,” Clarke and Bellamy said in chorus. They looked at each other and then away. “

I’d say let the princess handle it since she’s the one with the trust fund and mommy’s bank account, but I guess that’s not true anymore,” Bellamy simpered.

“Fuck you, Bellamy,” Clarke said and threw a twenty on the table. She got up to leave.

“I’ll see you back at the apartment, O.”

“Uncalled for, Bell,” Clarke heard Octavia say, but was out of earshot before she could hear Bellamy’s reply.

“And I was just beginning to think that maybe we could actually get through half a day without him being a complete asshole,” Clarke muttered to herself as she began the trek back to her new apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS  
> I'm not sure how reasonable Bellamy's educational timeline is with the whole army thing (I know nothing about enlisting or serving other than the brief survey I did online while thinking about this), but here's how I tried to think about it…he enlists and begins training at 17 with parental consent (according to something I read that's a thing, not 100% sure how reliable my source is though), after training he's on active duty from age 18-21 and he returns home when his mother dies so that he can take care of Octavia who is 16 at the time, and he's on reserve for four more years (8 years of enlistment seemed to be the most consistent answer for a minimum years of service), during this time he gets an undergraduate degree, and is currently working on his third year of his Masters at age 28. I apologize if I'm completely off base about any of that.


	4. Chapter 4

There was a knock at the door. Clarke rolled off the couch, setting her laptop on the coffee table and padded over. She opened the door to find Bellamy standing there holding a large pile of papers. “Octavia’s not home,” she said and started to close the door. It had only been two days since Bellamy’s comment at lunch and Clarke was still seething. She constantly had the memory running through the back of her mind of her mom yelling and saying she was no longer speaking to or supporting Clarke, she didn’t need someone else saying it out loud, especially someone who Clarke didn’t even like in the first place.

“I’m not here to see Octavia.” Bellamy said, catching the door with his foot.

“Well, then you must have the wrong apartment. There’s a kind of slutty girl who lives about three doors down, she’s probably into assholes, maybe you should go knock on her door.” Clarke snapped and tried to close the door again.

Bellamy kept his foothold, “Octavia told me I needed to apologize for what I said on Sunday.”

Clarke’s mouth was in a tight grimace, her jaw jutting out slightly, “And…” Bellamy looked down to the floor. “You can’t just say you need to apologize and then not actually apologize. That’s not how it works. Especially when you wait two days to do it.”

There was a pause. “I’m sorry. It was uncalled for,” Bellamy said quietly, still not looking up from the ground.

“What was?” Clarke asked stubbornly, crossing her arms, “Are you sorry that you said what you did? Or that Octavia called you out on it?”

“How old are we? Do you seriously need to walk me through an apology?”

“Well clearly you don’t know how to give one, so apparently I do.”

“Alright! Alright! I’m sorry I said what I did about you being a spoiled brat and that it was about time you got a taste of actually having to work for things like the rest of the world.”

“Don’t remember you saying half of that, but glad to know what you really think!”

“I might have thought more than said that stuff. Anyway, I’m sorry.” Bellamy apologized, sounding more sincere this time.

“Fine, apology accepted. Have a nice day!” Clarke said sarcastically, once again trying to close the door, and again it was stopped by Bellamy’s foot.

“I brought my thesis…if you’d still be willing to take a look…”

“So you come to apologize, I practically have to pull it out of you, and you still want me to do you a favor?” She looked at him incredulously.

“I, uh…” He at least at the decency to look a little guilty, “I’ve been stuck on the translation for nearly two weeks and it’s nagging at me so much that I’m struggling to move on to other parts.”

“Okay, fine, whatever!” Clarke said, holding out her hand for the stack of papers Bellamy was clutching. “I’ll get to it when I get to it!”

“Thank you, Clarke!” Bellamy exclaimed sounding truly grateful. The look on his face changed to the signature Blake smirk as he added, “Maybe you can find me at that slutty girl’s apartment when you’re done and we can talk about what you think.”

“Fuck off,” and with that Clarke was finally able to close the door.

She made her way back to the couch, tossing the copy of Bellamy’s thesis on the coffee table and pulled her laptop back onto her lap. She started her Netflix movie again, after a moment her gaze shifted to the thesis sitting two feet away, she turned back to her movie. “No,” she told herself, “Why should I help that asshole?” She got through about five more minutes of her movie before she heaved a big sigh, closed her computer and picked up the thesis. “Only because I really did love that Classic Comparative Mythology class,” she mumbled as her eyes began to flit back and forth across the page. 

* * *

 

Octavia walked into the apartment and was greeted by a sight that pulled her immediately back to the college years. Clarke was sitting cross-legged on the couch, hair pulled up in a messy bun on the top of her head, pen tucked between her teeth, as she muttered under her breath, surrounding her on the couch and coffee table were several books open to various pages.

“Aha! Yes!” Clarke shouted excitedly as she took the pen from her mouth and began to scribble something on a piece of paper.

“What’cha doin’?” Octavia asked walking over and finding an open spot on the arm chair to fall into.

“Oh, hi, O. Didn’t hear you come in.”

“Obviously. What? Did we regress to writing term papers again? I feel like we’re back at Augie looking at you.” Octavia voiced her earlier thoughts.

“Huh? Oh…well, Bellamy stopped by…and he dropped off his thesis. And I wasn’t going to look at it right away, but then I did, and I got really caught up and had to go find my copy of Ovid and well, yeah.” Clarke paused to take a breath. “Anyway, you look awfully cute for having just come from a work meeting,” She said waggling her eyebrows.

“You know, sometimes I hate that you know me so well.” Octavia told her, not really meaning it.

“So there is a guy!” Clarke squealed as she tossed what she had been working on, onto the table and gave Octavia her undivided attention.

“Well, it’s not officially a thing. I mean, I don’t even know what he thinks of me. But he always requests to work with me when he comes into the travel agency, which is a lot because he works for that nature magazine, Grounders, and travels around taking pictures. He brings back little trinkets from the places he goes, he says they’re to help me decorate my office.”

“Oh my god! He so likes you! Does he have a name?”

“Lincoln. Lincoln Westbrook.”

“And when do I get to meet this Lincoln Westbrook?”

“Well, maybe if he actually asked me out on a date…” Octavia said, not able to hide her disappointment that this hadn’t happened already.

“Okay, so he specifically asks to work with you, brings you gifts from far off, exotic places, and yet doesn’t ask you out on a date? Is he married or something?”

“No. Not married. And according to Facebook, he’s not in a relationship either.”

“Octavia Blake! Did you Facebook stalk him?!” Clarke questioned, acting appalled.

“I might have also looked at his Instagram and he doesn’t have a Twitter, so…” Octavia grabbed a nearby pillow to hide her reddening face.

“Oh my god! You are downright smitten!” Clarke couldn’t stop the huge grin that was spreading across her face. “I cannot remember the last time you were this into a guy!” Octavia looked out from behind the pillow, her smile taking up half her face.

She watched as Clarke suddenly grabbed her laptop and began typing something while saying, “I’m going to have to track down this Lincoln Westbrook and inform him that if he doesn’t ask my best friend out soon he’ll have me to contend with.” Her eyes widened slightly as she looked at the computer screen, “Okay, maybe threatening him may not be my safest option…I’m pretty sure he could tie me in a knot and throw me 100 yards, but damn, he is one good looking man, Octavia!” Clarke whistled.

Octavia laughed at her friend coming over to look at the Facebook profile Clarke had pulled up. She smiled as she looked at the well-built man whose brown eyes made her want to melt, “Isn’t he, though?”


	5. Chapter 5

Bellamy heard his phone buzz as he sat at his on his couch catching up on the latest episode of his favorite post-apocalyptic show about a group of teenage criminals who had been living in space before they were sent down to see if the earth was inhabitable after a nuclear war. He ignored his phone, but then it buzzed again. He picked it up and gave it a confused look. Why was an unknown number texting him? Then he actually read the messages.

+12223552753  
Hey Bellamy, It’s Clarke, I hope you don’t  
mind that I got your number from Octavia…  
7:17 pm

I finished going over your thesis and was  
wondering when you wanted to meet to talk  
about it  
7:18 pm

As he was typing his reply, his phone buzzed a third time.

I was going to knock on my slutty neighbor’s  
door to ask for you, but I didn’t want to  
interrupt anything  
7:20 pm

Bellamy laughed. Regardless of Clarke being a stuck up princess most of the time, she definitely had a good memory and a sense of humor. Then again, maybe she was just making a jab at his “womanizing” reputation. He chose to believe the first. Bellamy added her number to his contacts before composing his reply.

Hey, Princess, no problem. And thanks again  
for taking a look.  
7:21 pm

I’m going to be on campus all day tomorrow grading  
Latin tests if you want to stop by. I don’t know  
how far out of your way that is.  
7:21 pm

Actually, the conservation center is pretty  
close. I’m only there until 2, so maybe I could  
drop by around 2:30?  
7:23 pm

Yeah, that sounds good. My office is  
Rutherfeld 231-B (for Bellamy…or Blake).  
Not really, but if the shoe fits…  
7:24 pm

If you get lost you could probably just  
ask a student.  
7:24 pm

Great. Just what I always wanted. To go back  
to being that lost freshman on campus  
7:25 pm

I’ll figure it out. See you tomorrow  
7:25 pm

Her name is Roma, by the way…  
7:32 pm

Who?  
7:38 pm

Your slutty neighbor who lives three  
doors down.  
7:39 pm

Are you fucking kidding me, Blake?!  
7:40 pm

…Blake?  
7:42 pm

Fuck this, I don’t even care  
7:45 pm

Yes  
7:47 pm

Yes, what?  
7:47 pm

 

Yes, I’m kidding you, and also yes  
you do care.  
7:48 pm

Ugh! You’re so obnoxious!  
7:48 pm

See? You’re not denying that you care!  
7:49 pm

Only for the sanity of Octavia. She  
wouldn’t want the mental image of you  
fucking our slutty neighbor  
7:50 pm

Sometimes we swear we can hear her. She  
doesn’t even close her door all the way before  
she starts going after some of her dates  
7:50 pm

Hmm…maybe I should knock on her door…  
7:51 pm

You’re disgusting! I’ll talk to you tomorrow  
7:53 pm

Looking forward to it. Night, Clarke.  
7:54 pm

What? No “princess”?  
7:55 pm

Well, if you insist…  
7:55 pm

Good night, Princess ;)  
7:55 pm

Ugh! Good night, Asshole  
7:56 pm

Bellamy smiled and put his phone back on the table and resumed watching his show. His phone buzzed.

Princess  
I’m going to hate myself for asking this…  
8:15 pm

But if she’s not our slutty neighbor,  
then who’s Roma?  
8:15 pm

Some slutty girl who lived a couple houses  
down from me and O when I was in high school.  
8:16 pm

Oh, okay then  
8:17 pm

Good night…for real. See you tomorrow  
8:17 pm

Good night, Princess.  
8:17 pm

* * *

 

The next day, Bellamy looked at his clock anxiously as it approached 2:00, and more so when 2:20 and then 2:25 rolled around. He didn’t know why he felt anxious. He was just meeting Clarke, so it shouldn’t be a big deal. But then he realized it was going to be the first time they were hanging out just the two of them. Sure they had conversations, well mostly arguments, just one-on-one, but this was the first time there wouldn’t be one of their friends in the next room ready to keep them from actually murdering one another.

At 2:45, he was just about to look up her number and call her to see if she had forgotten or backed out, when he heard a knock at the door. “Come in,” he called.

Clarke walked in, looking over her shoulder, nose wrinkled slightly and mouth downturned. She rolled her eyes and then turned to Bellamy, face changing to an apologetic smile “Sorry I’m late...I may or may not have gotten lost and may or may not have been too stubborn to ask for directions.” She closed the door and sat down in one of the chairs on the other side of his desk.

“It’s fine. I didn’t even notice the time,” Bellamy lied smoothly. “What was that look for?”

“What look?”

“The look you had on your face as you were walking in.”

“Oh, well, I’m not sure what her problem is, but when I walked in, the girl sitting at the desk out there asked me who I was here to see. At first I was like, no big deal, but when I said you, she gave me the third degree, interrogating me as to what business I had, ‘Because clearly I’m not a Classics major’ and apparently there is ‘no other legitimate reason for me interrupting your grading.’” Clarke said, using a high-pitched mocking voice to “quote” the girl from the outer office area.

Bellamy laughed. “That would be Echo, she’s the general office assistant, an undergraduate work study student. I don’t think I’d be stretching the truth to say she has a crush on me.”

“Normally I would chalk that comment up to you being a cocky asshole,” Clarke said with a grin, “but she the look she gave me when I refused to tell her outright why I was here and just said ‘personal business’…well, if looks could kill, I would not be standing here now.”

Belllamy chuckled, “Why didn’t you just tell her? It’s not like you looking over my thesis is a big deal.”

“No. But she was rude to me. Why should I give her an explanation?”

“Ever the princess,” Bellamy shook his head, smile still on his face.

Clarke stuck her tongue out at him, “Do you want my opinion on your thesis or not?”

“Of course,” Bellamy placated, “What have you got?” His face changed to a look of surprise as Clarke pulled the copy of his thesis he had given her, now covered in pen markings. “Geez, I know you’re not my biggest fan, but you didn’t have to take it out on the culmination of my graduate school work.”

“No, no, no,” she reassured hurriedly, “most of the markings are me just making notes for myself or else it was just a lack of finding other paper as I wrote down various translations. It’s actually really good, Bellamy, like really good.”

Bellamy couldn’t stop the slight blush that was creeping over his cheeks, as much as he may act confident and cocky, he was actually quite humble when it came to other’s praising his work. “So, did you have any luck with the translations I highlighted?”

Clarke nodded enthusiastically, “I completely understand what you mean about it being difficult to get the right mood in English, but here’s a couple of different nuances I picked up and translated the best I could…”

...

Several hours and a couple of minor spats about how to better translate a word or phrase later, out of nowhere Bellamy heard, “Let’s talk about sex, baby. Let’s talk about you and me. Let’s talk about all the good things and the bad things that may be. Let’s talk abo-ut sex…”

Clarke began searching her bag that had been abandoned on the floor, “Remind me to kill your sister for changing my ringtone again. I’m just glad it didn’t go off at work...speak of the devil,” she said, having found her phone. “Hey O!...Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize the time…yeah, I went over to the university after work to talk with Bellamy about his thesis…no, neither of us have killed the other…I can check for his pulse if you’d really like…alright…I’ll let him know…I’ll be home in a bit…yup, I’ll pick it up on my way…love you, too…bye.”

Bellamy raised an eyebrow in question to what Octavia had said.

“First, she would like me to tell you how proud she is that neither of us are dead.” Bellamy rolled his eyes. “Second, she wanted me to remind you about Chinese at our place and then drinks at the Drop Ship for tomorrow night. Raven is requiring everyone’s presence and is apparently threatening to hunt down anyone who doesn’t show.”

“Seeing as though I miraculously have the night off, I’ll be there. Though, I do have a shift tonight in…” he drew out the last syllable as he checked the clock, “two hours, so I should probably head home to get changed and such.”

“Octavia is demanding that I pick up dinner and bring it home ASAP, anyway, so I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” They stood up and Clarke grabbed her bag from the floor.

“Hey, maybe I’ll crash on your couch and you can see my shining face bright and early in the morning.” Bellamy joked.

“As long as your shining face doesn’t take my coffee.” Clarke quipped and swung open the door and out of the room, waving a hand behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact #1: I made Clarke’s phone number (12223552753) because it stands for 1-BC (for Bellamy and Clarke (or CB for Clarke and Bellamy)) BELLARKE  
> Fun Fact #2: I gave myself total Bellarke feels with this text convo; I was literally giddy while writing it. Hope you got at least an ounce of that from this chapter.


	6. Chapter 6

On Friday morning Bellamy woke up on his sister’s couch, having stumbled in around 4:00 am. Working at a bar meant decent pay (for a bartender at least) and nice tips, but it also meant late nights; getting a key to his sister’s apartment was probably one of the smartest things he had ever done. Instead of catching a cab to take him across town, which would overcharge him due to the late hour, he could walk just around the corner and have a couch waiting for him, blankets and pillows included.

He walked into the kitchen, opened the cupboard and took out a mug.

“Me too, please,” he heard his sister’s voice say as she joined him in the kitchen. Bellamy got out a second mug and filled both with coffee that was already made and waiting. He was about to take his first sip when he noticed a note sticking out from under the coffee maker.

_I made the coffee again this morning. Sure hope I did it right!_   
_xoxo,_   
_Clarke_

She was, of course, referring to the comment Bellamy had made last time he had crashed on the couch after Clarke had moved in with Octavia, feigning surprise that the spoiled rich girl could make herself a cup of coffee. He shook his head, and took a sip of the coffee, and almost spit it right back out; it tasted like someone had dumped a pound of sugar into it…much like the cup he had snagged from Clarke’s possession last week.

“Something wrong?” Octavia asked, having not yet taken a drink from her mug.

“Taste the coffee,” Bellamy choked out.

Octavia obliged and then laughed, “You know how I said Clarke’s response to you taking her coffee last Sunday was tame? Well, apparently she’s going for the long-term, subtle revenge.” She took another sip of the coffee.

“You’re going to drink that?” Bellamy asked, astounded.

“Yeah. You’re the one who likes it black. If I didn’t like the added sugar, Clarke wouldn’t have done it. She’s getting back at you, not me.”

“Well, can you pour the rest of the contaminated stuff into a second mug or something? I’m going to make a drinkable pot of coffee.” Bellamy inquired as he went to the cupboard to find the coffee grounds. He stared at the empty shelf, a note resting where the coffee grounds usually sat.

_You didn’t think I’d make it that easy, did you?_   
_xoxo,_   
_Clarke_

“Exactly how mad would you be at me if I legitimately killed Clarke? Would you just not talk to me for a week? Maybe two? And then eventually get over it? Because right now, I’m thinking it might be worth it.”

In response to Octavia’s raised eyebrow, he just handed her the note, which resulted in her uproarious laughter. “This needs to be instagramed,” she said, running to her room with both notes to find her phone.

Bellamy also went in search of his phone, but instead of social media, he opened his text messaging. After finding “Princess” he composed his text.

What did you do with the coffee, Princess?  
10:08 am

I’m at work, how could I have done anything  
to your coffee?  
10:09 am

Before you left, smartass.  
10:09 am

I assure you, I have no idea what you’re  
talking about ;)  
10:09 am

I need my coffee in the mornings.  
10:10 am

Funny you should say that. So do I. Specifically  
I need someone to not steal it out of my hand  
10:11 am

Just tell me where I can find the  
coffee grounds.  
10:11 am

Maybe if I got an apology for the coffee stealing  
incidence last week  
10:12 am

Sorry  
10:12 am

For what?  
10:12 am

Not this again!  
10:13 am

I’m waiting…  
10:13 am

I am sorry I took your coffee last Sunday.  
It was immature and unwarranted.  
10:13 am

Very good. Coffee’s below the sink behind  
the garbage bags  
10:14 am

Thank you.  
10:13 am

If you’re at work, shouldn’t you be, I  
don’t know, working?  
10:14 am

You caught me on my break. Speaking of which,  
I need to get back  
10:14 am

Enjoy your coffee  
10:14 am

“Who you texting?” Octavia asked after she re-entered the kitchen.

“Clarke. Figuring out where she hid the coffee.” Bellamy replied absently as he went under the sink to find it.

“So you guys are getting along?!” Octavia excitedly asked.

“I don’t know that you would call holding coffee hostage until I apologize ‘getting along.’”

“If I didn’t know any better, I would call it flirting.”

Bellamy scoffed, “The day I flirt with Clarke Griffin check me into a mental hospital, because I’ve clearly lost my mind.”

“Whatever you say, big brother.”

* * *

 

“You’re late!” Clarke was greeted by Raven as she walked into her apartment.

“Sorry.” She replied and followed the voice to the living room, “I was under the impression that people weren’t getting here till 7:00…and it looks like you’re the only one who’s early, so am I even late?”

“For girl talk and getting ready, yes you are,” Octavia pronounced.

“Geez, didn’t know I had even more social obligations in addition to hosting dinner and going out tonight,” Clarke feigned exasperation with her friends. “Come to my room and help me pick out what to wear then we can have your girl talk,” she added as she turned down the hall to her bedroom. The two girls got up from their places on the couch to follow.

“We laid out your outfit on your bed, already,” Octavia said. “But I’ll help you with your hair.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?”

“You look like you just came from work.”

“I did just come from work.”

“Exactly.”

“Fine,” Clarke conceded and looked at her bed to see what outfit her friends had chosen. The verdict: black faux leather leggings, a flowy white top, and a pair of strappy heels.

After Clarke had changed and was sitting down to let Octavia do one of her elaborate braiding hair-dos, Octavia called over her shoulder to Raven, “Alright, now will you finally tell me the ‘girl talk’ that had to be withheld until Clarke got home?”

“Well…” said Raven holding up her left hand, which was sporting a beautiful diamond ring on a very specific finger.

“Oh my god!” Clarke and Octavia said in sequence, Octavia dropped Clarke’s hair and they both rushed over to get a closer look at the ring. “Wick proposed?!”

“Yup,” Raven chirped, a huge grin on her face.

The girls gushed and continued to get ready until the rest of the guests started arriving. 

* * *

Nearly three hours later a wide array of Chinese food, or rather empty cartons that had previous held Chinese food, were sitting on the coffee table, while the friends sat and talked; Miller, Jasper, and Bellamy occupied the couch, Wick and Raven shared the arm chair, snuggling in their post-engagement bliss, Octavia and Clarke were on the love seat. Monty had come for dinner, but had to leave early in order to make it to his shift at the Drop Ship.

Octavia looked at the time on her phone for the tenth time in the last half hour. “We should get going,” She announced.

“Hmmm…got a hot date meeting you at the bar, O?” Clarke prodded quietly, nudging Octavia with her elbow. “Maybe someone whose name starts with Lin- and ends with –coln?”

“It’s not a date,” Octavia whispered defensively.

“Ahh, but he is meeting you there, am I right?” Clarke asked.

“Let’s just get going. We told Monty we’d be there around 10:00,” Octavia addressed everyone, avoiding Clarke’s question and eye contact.

“I’m down to clown,” Jasper said while gaining his feet. Everyone joined him in standing and before long they were on their way around the corner to the Drop Ship.

...

After getting the first round of drinks, everyone was up to their usual antics: Raven, Octavia, and Clarke on the dance floor while they guys sat and chatted; currently they were seated at the bar, since Monty was on shift and could add his two cents when he wasn’t busy with customers. Not impressed with the DJ’s music selections, the girls wandered back to the group.

“Round two on me!” Octavia announced, motioning Monty over.

“Half of us aren’t even done with round one,” Wick complained, holding up his half empty beer bottle.

“He should not have said that,” Clarke mumbled with a grimace.

But before anyone could ask her why, Octavia’s voice built up as she voiced the question to which there is never a good answer. “You know what that means?” She paused for dramatic effect, “Shots!” Monty had just made his way over to the group, “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven,” Octavia counted, “Seven tequila shots, Monty! Or better yet! Do you have any of your moonshine smuggled under the bar?”

“Please say no, please say no, please say no,” Clarke begged quietly.

“Seven shots of moonshine it is!” Monty announced, pulling out shot glasses.

“And here I was thinking I would remember tonight,” Clarke shook her head. She had partaken in Monty’s moonshine only three other times in her life; two resulted in a complete blackout, the third was just very fuzzy around the edges.

Raven responded to Clarke’s whispered comment, “I would have rather done tequila.”

“Pact?” Clarke turned to her friend, “No matter how Octavia begs, we will not let the other have more than this single shot of Monty’s moonshine.”

“I will sprint across the bar and knock the shot glass from your hand, if necessary.” Raven replied.

“Same.” Clarke returned and the two girls shook hands, sealing the deal.

Octavia finished passing out shot glasses and raised hers in the air, “To the future Mr. and Mrs. Wick!”

“So, not changing my last name, but hear, hear!” Raven said and raised her glass.

“Hear, hear,” everyone cheered and took their shot, which was followed by several grimaces and a few coughs.

“New batch?” Miller croaked as he set his glass on the bar.

“Yup,” Monty replied proudly. “Oh look, here comes, Bryan.”

“Did I miss all the fun?” Bryan asked, coming up to the group.

“Not at all! Another shot!” Octavia cried.

“You’re definitely regretting that question now, aren’t you?” Miller teased, elbowing his boyfriend in the side.

“Not as much as you are when I ask Monty for another, so I don’t have to take it alone.”

“Why did I open my big mouth?” Miller questioned with a smile.

Monty produced two more shots. “Miller should have gotten in on our pact,” Raven said to Clarke, looking on pityingly as he downed his second shot in as many minutes.

“It’s every man for himself,” Clarke said with a sad shake of her head, before adding with a smirk, “And every woman with her friends.” The two girls laughed.

The group began to disperse into smaller fractions, Raven dragging Wick out to the dance floor, Miller, Bryan, Jasper, and Bellamy heading toward the dart board at the back of the bar, and Clarke and Octavia locating a table at which to sit and chat for a little. The two girls had only been talking for two minutes before Octavia looked over Clarke’s shoulder and began waving someone down.

“I’m so glad you came!” She called, getting up from her chair, only to do the awkward dance of not knowing the appropriate way to greet the handsome, buff, bald man who had just made his way through the crowd to them; a peck on the cheek was too intimate of a greeting and a handshake too formal. Octavia settled for a slightly clumsy hug. “Lincoln, this is Clarke, my roommate and the best friend a girl could ask for. Clarke, Lincoln, my…” She trailed off, not knowing how to describe her relationship, or lack thereof, with Lincoln.

Clarke saved her by holding out her hand, “Nice to meet you, Lincoln. I hear you’ve been bringing back trinkets from far off lands to decorate O’s office.”

He nodded as he shook her hand, “Can’t have the best travel agent in town having a shabby looking office.”

“See, you’re just growing her ego. She’s going to be insufferable to live with now,” Clarke joked.

“Just telling the truth,” Lincoln said with a smile that shown deep in his eyes as he looked toward Octavia. Octavia returned it with the same gleam in her eyes.

Clarke looked between the two of them and smiled knowingly to herself. “I hate to be that person and do the meet and dash, but I hear a whiskey sour calling my name from the bar. I’ll catch up with you later, O.” She said, touching her friend gently on her arm, before turning to the newcomer and adding, “It was great to meet you, Lincoln; I hope to be seeing you around.” She shot a wink to Octavia with the last sentence. The look Octavia gave Clarke was a look of both graciousness and murder; she didn’t know whether to thank her friend for giving her some time alone with Lincoln, or to kill her for insinuating that he should come back to their apartment.

Clarke swerved her way to a stool at the end of the bar. Harper, the other bartender for the night, approached her, “Hey, Clarke, what can I get for you?”

“Whiskey sour, please,” Clarke answered and turned, so she could spy on Octavia and Lincoln from across the bar. Lincoln had taken the seat Clarke had previously occupied and was deep in conversation with Octavia, his hand idly stroking hers in the center of the table. Not a date, my ass! Clarke thought to herself as she took a sip of the drink Harper had just placed in front of her before hurrying off to help another patron.

“A pretty thing like you sitting all by yourself? That’s a tragedy if I’ve ever seen one.” A voice broke Clarke out of her musings. She turned and saw a man with pushed back brown hair, brown eyes to match, and smirk of privilege and cockiness whose gaze was looking her up and down. When his eyes finally met hers, he held out his hand, “Cage Wallace.”

“Clarke,” she answered curtly, reluctantly taking his hand. But instead of shaking it, he turned her wrist to bring the back of her hand up to his lips. She jerked back her hand and tried to subtly, but not too subtly, wipe in on her leggings.

“So, what has brought this tragedy of a beautiful girl all by her lonesome at this humble bar?” He asked, his voice dripping with sleaze.

“Came to celebrate with friends,” she replied shortly.

“And what are we celebrating?”

“Friends’ engagement.”

“That’s wonderful, let’s toast to them!” He said trying to wave over a bartender.

“Did that earlier tonight.” Clarke had never been good at getting men to leave her alone at bars. Sure she could yell and rave at people she knew, exhibit A: Bellamy.

But being polite to strangers was something that had been ground into her at a young age from attending functions with her mom and dad. The closest she ever got to telling someone off at a bar was being short and abrupt like she was now, hoping he’d take the hint when none of her sentences were over five words; usually Octavia or Raven would swoop in with the save, but they were both preoccupied with their respective love interests.

“And once is enough for the happy couple?” He smile was sickeningly sweet.

“Yup,” Clarke clipped.

“I don’t believe that,” he said, his voice as slick as oil. “Plus they can’t be good friends if they abandoned you here by yourself.” He slid his hand up her thigh and added, “But their loss is my gain.”

She tensed and removed his hand from her leg, “They’re just doing their own thing,” she said through partially gritted teeth. And after a second’s thought she added the classic method to get a guy to back off who couldn’t take a hint, “And I really don’t think my boyfriend would appreciate where you were going with that comment.” She enunciated the final word with a look at his hand that had formally been invading her space.

“Boyfriend? You didn’t mention one before,” Cage said, still leaning towards her with no change in the slimy tone of his voice.

_Dear Lord, what would make this jackass back the fuck off?!_

“Yup, and he’s right…” Clarke quickly scanned the room to find any of her guy friends that she could pass off as a boyfriend. And then she spotted someone. I am so going to regret this. I am most definitely going to regret this. Why am I doing this?! This has got to be one of the worst ideas I’ve ever had! “…there.” She pointed to Bellamy who was approaching them from the back of the bar where he had been playing darts.

She surged upward as soon as he was close enough, quickly whispered, “Please just go with it,” in his ear, and gave him a peck on the cheek, hoping Cage wouldn’t notice anything was off.

Luckily before Bellamy could voice his confusion, Cage said, “So you’re our dear Clarke’s boyfriend. Aren’t you a lucky man?”

“Boyfriend?” Bellamy said with a slight question in his voice before quickly sliding his hands around Clarke’s waist and pulling her into his chest, “Yup. That’s me.”

He gave Clarke a peck on the cheek. “And you are…?”

“Cage Wallace. I was just trying to keep this beautiful lady company because I thought she was all alone.”

“Not alone. Just wandered off for a bit. I was actually just coming to look for her.” Bellamy didn’t relinquish his hold on her waist as he conversed with Cage. Playing the part of the happy girlfriend, Clarke settled back into him, rested her head on his shoulder, and placed her hands over his. As much as she was not a fan of Bellamy Blake, she would take him over this Cage Wallace person any day. “So, Princess, you want to play that game of pool we were talking about?” Bellamy had turned to look down at her.

Clarke turned her head without it leaving his shoulder; she had never been this close to him before and felt like she could count each individual freckle on his face. An uncontrollable smiled pulled up the corners of her mouth. “Only if you’re ready to get your ass kicked,” she teased playfully.

“You mean, only if you’re ready to get _your_ ass kicked,” his index finger booped her nose gently as he emphasized the word “you’re”, a smile alighting his face as well. His gaze lingered on hers for a moment before he jerked back to look at Cage. “It was great to me you, Craig. I’m going to steal my girlfriend back now.”

Bellamy turned her toward the pool tables with his a hand on the small of her back.

“It’s Cage,” Cage corrected and then reached for Clarke’s wrist, preventing her from making a clean escape. “And Clarke,” he said, sliding a small piece of paper into her hand, “if you ever want some time with a real man of class, give me a call.” With that he got up and walked away, seeking out his next prey.

Still standing partially against his chest, Clarke felt Bellamy tense and he started toward Cage whose back was already turned toward them. She put a hand on the center of his chest and looked up at him, “He’s not even worth it, Bellamy.” He looked down at her and took a deep breath. She held his gaze as he unclenched his fists and the fire faded from his eyes. She paused, her mind reflecting on the past minute, “Did you fucking BOOP me on the nose?”  
“I was playing the doting, lovesick boyfriend!” He defended.

* * *

**[Backtracking here a little bit, mostly because I wanted to see the same scene from Bellamy’s perspective]**

Bellamy had just won the game of darts and was venturing from the back to get another whiskey sour. Well, it looks like Clarke is hitting it off with someone, he thought as he saw a man with brown hair resting his hand on her thigh. She pushed it off, said something and then began looking around before her eyes settled on him. He couldn’t quite name the look on her face, but as he got closer to the bar she jumped up like something had bit her in the ass, placed a hand on his chest, whispered something in his ear and kissed him on the cheek. Wait, she kissed him on the cheek? What is going on?

He was about to voice this question, when the man to whom Clarke had been talking said, “So you’re our dear Clarke’s boyfriend. Aren’t you a lucky man?”

“Boyfriend?” He questioned quietly and then the words Clarke had whispered finally registered in his brain “Please just go with it” “Yup. That’s me.” He said with confidence and snaked his arms around her waist pulling her close, the smell of her shampoo wafting up to his nose. Channeling a protective and jealous boyfriend he pressed a quick kiss to her temple and added, “And you are…?”

“Cage Wallace. I was just trying to keep this beautiful lady company because I thought she was all alone.” The tone in his voice put Bellamy on edge. It was the tone Bellamy associated with cocky assholes who thought they could run the world however they pleased and no one could stop them.

“Not alone. Just wandered off for a bit. I was actually just coming to look for her.” Clarke settled more deeply into his hold, laying her head on his shoulder and wrapping her hands around his. How to get out of here…, he thought. “So, Princess,” he said, her nickname rolling off his tongue with an entirely different tone than usual, more of a caress, less of saying it just to get under her skin, “you want to play that game of pool we were talking about?”

She turned her head on his shoulder to meet his gaze, he swore he had never seen such brilliant blue eyes before. A soft, happy smile came over her features. “Only if you’re ready to get your ass kicked,” she said, her nose wrinkling slightly in an endearing way.

“You mean, only if you’re ready to get _your_ ass kicked,” his finger instinctively tapping the tip of her nose, before he could think of what he was doing. She held his gaze for a moment, then, startling out of the moment, he looked to Cage. “It was great to meet you Craig,” He said, purposefully saying the wrong name. Who names their kid, “Cage” anyway? “I’m going to steal my girlfriend back now.” He started to turn, placing his hand on Clarke’s lower back to guide her to the pool tables, hearing a slightly angered, “It’s Cage,” over his shoulder, but was stopped when Clarke was tugged back.

He saw Cage slipping something into her hand. “And Clarke, if you ever want some time with a real man of class, give me a call.” As Cage turned his back, not even acknowledging him, Bellamy felt the rage that he was oh-so familiar with fill him. He had caught the tone earlier, the “I’m better than you, I’ll do what I want” tone, and Bellamy had heard it from people for his whole life; now that he was an adult, there was no one there to stop him from doing something about it when someone used that tone with him. Except Clarke, apparently.

The moment he started forward he felt her small hand splay across his chest. “He’s not even worth it,” she told him, her voice a calm against his inner storm. He looked down and met her gaze; it was as calm as her voice and it calmed him too. Then the look in her eyes changed to something he was much more familiar with, an indignant spark, “Did you fucking BOOP me on the nose?!”

“I was playing the doting, lovesick boyfriend,” he defended the action, truthfully not knowing himself where it had come from.

She glared at him and glanced over at the bar to see Cage glancing their way, “We should probably actually play that game of pool. Just so we don’t get our cover blown.” She shivered, “You couldn’t pay me all the money in the world to talk to that guy again.” She moved over to the table and racked the balls.

“By the way you own me one, for that whole shebang back there,” he said as he joined her at the pool table.

“Okay. Fine. What do you want?”

“I don’t know,” he said, trying to think about potential favors, but nothing came to mind, “…yet. I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

She rolled her eyes, “Do you want to break? Or should I?”

“I’ll give you the advantage,” he smirked. Not to brag or anything, but he was a beast at pool. However, the mischievous grin she gave him led him to question this decision. It was that second thought that rang true as she neatly broke the pack, sending a ball into the corner pocket. “Lucky break,” He said.

“Just keep telling yourself that this game and maybe you can walk away with your pride intact.” She walked around the table, lined up her next shot. “Seven ball, side pocket,” she called and did exactly as she claimed she was going to. Her third hit didn’t do quite what she wanted.

She stood back and Bellamy lined up his shot, “Twelve, corner pocket.” He watched the cue ball hit the twelve ball which then sunk into the corner pocket. “I hope you didn’t think this was going to be easy,” he said, giving her his half-smile.

After Clarke lost the first game, she insisted on best two out of three, “I was just getting warmed up,” she claimed.

Just as Clarke won the second game Octavia wandered over. “Where have you been all night?” he asked her.

“Oh, here and there,” she replied exchanging a suspicious look with Clarke.

“And by that you mean…”

“Nothing special.”

Bellamy growled under his breath. That meant something to do with a boy and she didn’t want to tell him about it, which meant it was probably someone he wasn’t going to like. Not that he liked the idea of any guy being interested in or especially touching his sister.

In the meantime, Clarke had racked the balls for the third game. “Do you want to break? Or should I?” she asked, harkening back to the first game. He wasn’t fooled by her innocent act anymore, this girl was borderline pool shark.

“You break. You did win the last game.”

“Huh?” She asked, not having heard him.

“You break.”

“No, no. The second half.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes. “We’ll see who’s the real winner after this game,” he proclaimed, determined to not be holding the short end of the stick.

“Oh really now? You ready to see how it looks from second place?”

“Stop talking and start chalking,” he bantered back.

When Clarke finally went to break, he walked over to stand next to where Octavia was sitting, messing around on her phone. “Here you go, Bell,” she said handing it to him.

“What’s this?” He said looking down at the phone. She had searched “top ten mental hospitals near me.”

“Make your choice. This morning you said that if you ever started flirting with Clarke I should check you into a mental hospital. I’m just getting your input first.” She smiled innocently at him.

“Why I put up with you, the world may never know,” he shook his head and handed her phone back to her. “And I’m not flirting! I am undermining my competition by getting in her head.”

“Whatever you say, big brother. You may hate that I sometimes know you better than yourself, but you always love me.”

“You’re up,” Clarke announced, oblivious to the conversation he had been having with his sister. She walked over to take his place and chat with Octavia as he took his shot.

Octavia left halfway through the game saying she was going to the dance floor, he nodded absentmindedly, unwavering in his need to win this game. However, he did not.

“Shit. I should have put money on this or something,” Clarke said as she gloated.

“Well, too late now,” he said, but was soon distracted by a girl with curly brown hair approaching.

“I’m sorry, this may sound rude, but are you two together?” she asked.

“Oh god, no,” Clarke said before Bellamy could answer, “I mean…” she quickly looked around the bar, looking for evidence of Cage still being there, she sighed in relief, “Nope, definitely not together.” The girl raised an eyebrow at Clarke’s antics. “Sorry, used him to get away from a total creep earlier tonight, just making sure our cover wasn’t blown,” she explained.

The girl laughed. Apparently this was a common occurrence in girl world and something they could bond over. “So you wouldn’t mind if I steal him for a dance or two?” she asked, then quickly turning to Bellamy, “Of course, assuming you want to.” She smiled at him.

“Can’t steal something I don’t want,” Clarke replied.

“Harsh much?” he quipped. Clarke just shrugged. “I’d love to,” he told the girl holding out his hand, “I’m Bellamy, by the way.”

“Gina,” she replied, taking his hand and leading him toward the dance floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: I get really embarrassed and uncomfortable on behalf of the characters when I’m reading or watching TV. So much so that I will often cover my eyes, hide my face, etc. during awkward moments. Definitely went through the same thing with the Cage-Clarke-Bellamy interaction here. Mostly it was when Clarke had to ask Bellamy to step in to be her boyfriend, because I knew Clarke didn’t want to do it, so I didn’t want to do it, but she had to do it, because plot. It was really hard for me to write because I was cringing and muttering “Oh, god, no” repeatedly, wishing to be out of the awkward situation. I actually had to put down my computer and walk away before I could complete the scene. In short, yes, I am socially awkward in real life and project that in my reading and viewing and apparently writing.


	7. Chapter 7

Octavia was woken up by her phone buzzing, it was the fourth time this morning that someone had tried to call. Whoever was calling clearly wasn’t getting the message that 7:45 am, 7:53 am, and 8:00 am on a Saturday was too early for her to answer the phone. When it started ringing again at 8:07 am, she finally rolled over and answered.

“Hello,” she said groggily.

“Hi, Octavia, it’s Abby Griffin. Clarke’s mom.”

“Hi, Mrs. Griffin,” Octavia said suspiciously.

“I was just calling because Clarke won’t take any of my calls and she doesn’t answer any of my texts or emails.” Despite being worried about her child, her tone also had a hint of annoyance.

Octavia was torn between being polite to the woman who had treated her so well in the past and biting her head off for what she was doing to Clarke now. Clarke was just following her passions and Octavia could have sworn the Abby she had met back during freshman year of college wouldn’t have put up such as fuss about it. But after Clarke’s father was killed in a horrendous car accident Octavia and Clarke’s second year of undergrad, Abby Griffin had changed; she had become much more controlling of Clarke, wanting to know where she was and what she was doing at all times. It was understandable, after having lost someone so close to her, but then it evolved into corralling Clarke down the life path of a doctor, so that she and Clarke could work together and always be in the same place, and not accepting any straying from that course.

Before Octavia could make up her mind on how to respond, Abby was talking again, “Do you know where she is and what she’s doing? I just want to know that she’s okay.” This time any hint of annoyance had completely vanished from Abby’s tone of voice, and it was only concern for her daughter that Octavia heard.

Octavia sighed and reassured Abby, “She’s doing fine, Mrs. Griffin. She moved in with me three weeks ago, she’s got a job, and is happy.”

“Oh, okay,” Abby said, sounding both relieved and deflated. “Do you think you could get her to give me a call sometime?”

“I could try. But you know as well as I do that she has that Griffin stubborn streak.”

Abby gave a weak laugh, “That she does. But could you give it a try anyway…please?”

Octavia assented.

“Thank you, Octavia. It would mean the world to me.”

They said their goodbyes and Octavia tumbled out of bed. She went to Clarke’s room to tell her that her mother called, but Clarke’s bed was already made. Octavia wandered into the living room to find her friend sitting on the couch, coffee mug in reach, and laptop opened on her lap. Octavia swerved to the kitchen and poured herself coffee, adding in some sugar, and joined her friend in the living room.

“No Bellamy today,” Clarke said as Octavia curled into the armchair.

Octavia smiled knowingly. “I thought you’d be happy.”

“I am. I just figured you’d be worried.”

“He texted last night saying not to expect him.”

“AKA he went home with some girl last night,” Clarke said, her face strategically neutral, but her voice had a sardonic undertone.

“Ew. No!” Octavia exclaimed, knowing her brother hooked up with girls was different from actively thinking about it. “He actually texted saying Murphy came into the bar last night and was too drunk to get himself back to his apartment, so Bell was going to take him home after closing and then crash there.”

“Oh,” was all Clarke responded.

Octavia smiled, “If I didn’t know any better, I would say that you were disappointed he wasn’t here.”

Clarke made a face. “New topic please!”

Octavia laughed and then sobered, “That’s what I was actually coming to tell you: your mom called me this morning. She said she’s been trying to call you, but you won’t take answer.”

“If she’s going to cut me off and basically tell me I’m dead to her, then she doesn’t deserve to know that I am alive and well.”

“Whelp, too late for that. I just told her you were still kicking and had moved in with me.”

“And now that she knows that she has no more reason to call me. Problem solved.”

Octavia rolled her eyes, “Pick up next time, Clarke, she sounded genuinely worried.”

Clarke narrowed her eyes at her friend.

“Hey, at least you still have a mom to worry about you,” Octavia said in a quiet voice.

“Octavia Blake, how do you know just how to play your cards to make me crumble every single time?” Clarke sighed, “I’ll pick up next time she calls.”

“It’s only because I know you inside and out, my dear,” Octavia said with a smile. “So we going out tonight?” She changed the subject, not wanting to linger on the topic of her mother who had passed away while she was just a kid. Bellamy had done a great job raising her, stepping up even before their mom had passed away, but it still didn’t make losing her mother any easier.

Clarke knew exactly what her friend was doing and allowed the subject to change after reaching over to give Octavia’s hand a quick squeeze of reassurance, “I’m still applying for part time jobs, but if I get ten applications done today, I’ll come out tonight.”

“I thought you had a job at the Conservation Center.”

“I do, but it’s only part time. They said they can’t afford to bring me on full time right now, especially since I don’t have a full degree in a related field, only my minor in art and a couple art history classes,” Clarke explained. “I can pay the rent no problem, but I feel like you’re the one buying all the groceries and paying for the take-out.”

“Am not!” Octavia argued, “And even if I was, I don’t mind; you paid for me a lot over the past years.”

“Correction: my mom paid for us a lot over the past years.”

Octavia growled her aggravation. “Fine, you can get a second job, but you’re definitely coming out tonight. I want you and Lincoln to get to know each other more than the two, two minute conversations you’ve had.”

“So things are getting serious?” Clarke scooted to the edge of the couch, waggling her eyebrows.

“Nothing official yet, but the couple dates that we’ve been on have been fantastic!” Octavia’s eyes got a dreamy look to them.

“Yay! Yes! I will come out and give Lincoln all the dirt on you!”

“I didn’t say that!” Octavia reached out a foot to kick Clarke.

“He needs to know what he’s getting into!” Clarke retorted, swatting away the foot. “Just let me get these applications in and then I will even go shopping with you, so you can find a super cute new outfit for tonight.”

“You know me so well,” Octavia smiled. “Now get to work, I will need ample shopping time!”

* * *

 At 10:30 that night, Clarke and Octavia were strolling into the Drop Ship arm in arm, already a little tipsy. They meandered over to the bar and Octavia got the attention of her brother, “Bellamy!” she yelled at him, despite him serving someone else a little ways away. He held up a finger to say “one second.”

“No, now!” she demanded, “Your little sister needs you!”

He finished the other customer’s order before making his way over to the two girls, “How much have you guys had to drink already?” He asked as they giggled a little too excessively over the comment Octavia had just made about the lack of customer service.

“Shouldn’t you be asking what we want now, not what we’ve had before?” Clarke asked.

“But you see, Princess, what I’m really asking is how much we have lost out on sales to you two already,” Bellamy returned without missing a beat.

Clarke tried to think of a response, but failed, settling for placing their order instead, “Whiskey sour for me and cranberry vodka for O.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes and started making their drinks.

“So, what time is Lincoln getting here?” she asked Octavia.

“Soon I hope,” she gushed, “I can’t wait to see his gorgeous brown eyes, and his arms and abs, oh, and you can’t forget his smile, and his hands…”

“Who are we talking about?” Bellamy asked as he placed their drinks on the counter in front of them. Octavia shot a panicked look to Clarke, clearly not ready to let her overprotective brother know that she’s seeing someone new.

“You, of course,” Clarke said quickly covering for Octavia with the first answer that came to mind. Bellamy raised an eyebrow. “We were just fantasizing about getting our drinks; had you let her finish she would have clarified ‘hands that are holding a whiskey sour and a cranberry vodka’…” Clarke was not sure whether or not her explanation was believable, but all Bellamy did was roll his eyes and go to take the next person’s drink order.

“Seriously, Clarke?” Octavia questioned as they slid into a booth.

“Like you were being helpful with your panicked look,” Clarke scoffed.

“I was talking about his arms…and his ABS! Do you think I fantasize about my brother’s abs?! That’s disgusting!”

“He was the first person I could think of!”

“So you’re fantasizing about my brother’s abs.”

“What? No!” Clarke stuttered, “He was standing right in front of me, of course he was the first person that came to mind!”

Before the argument could go any further, a third person slid into the booth next to Octavia. “Lincoln!” Octavia excitedly exclaimed, throwing her arms around him and planting a small kiss on his lips.

Lincoln shot a look at Clarke, note entirely comfortable with the PDA his almost girlfriend was showing. Octavia noticed the look, “You don’t have to worry about Clarke,” she reassured him, “she’s seen far worse.”

Clarke chuckled, “That I have, that I have…Anyway, good to see you again, Lincoln.”

“You, too,” he said, “How’s life in the art world?” The first time Lincoln had come to their apartment to pick up Octavia for a date, she had been nowhere near ready in typical Octavia fashion. This had left Clarke and Lincoln in awkward silence with the occasional effort of small talk. That was, however, before they got on the topic of art; with Lincoln being a photographer and Clarke working at the Conservation Center, and both of them sketching on their own time, they soon bonded over their mutual love for the visual arts.

“There’s this one painting I’m working on right now,” Clarke babbled happily. “It’s this old painting of some woods and there’s this deer that almost looks like two deer, and everyone is arguing whether it’s one deer or two; it’s really fascinating. I like to think it’s a deer with two heads. I just wish there was more information on it, though: anonymous artist, unknown date, unknown location.”

“Sounds fascinating,” Lincoln said genuinely, “I’ll have to stop by your work some time and see if you can sneak me in to the back rooms; I’ve always wanted to see more of the background of museums and such.”

“Only if you promise to bring me your portfolio like we talked about. From what I’ve seen of your published stuff, I can’t imagine what else you’ve got tucked away.”  
If Lincoln was the type of guy to blush, he would have, instead, he looked down, humbling accepting her praise. “I’ll make sure to grab it next time I come over to see Octavia.”

“You’d better.”

“Speaking of which,” Octavia said, “You totally need to come to dinner at our place; Clarke makes a mean lasagna and we just picked up the ingredients for one the other day.”

“I never say no to a lasagna,” Lincoln proclaimed.

“I’ll make it…” Clarke mentally walked through her work week schedule, “on Wednesday…does that work?”

“I can do Wednesday,” Lincoln confirmed.

“Let’s say six o’clock?”

“My mouth is watering, just thinking about it,” Octavia joked.

“Oh,” said Clarke, remembering her promise to Octavia earlier, “So, Lincoln, now that you’re officially dating Octavia…”

Octavia gave Clarke a stern look and mouthed, “Not official.”

Lincoln, on the other hand, did not seem phased by Clarke’s word choice

Clark ignored her friend, “—do I have some stories to share with you.”

Octavia groaned, “I thought we agreed we weren’t doing this.”

“No,” Clarke retorted, “You agreed we weren’t doing this.” And with that Clarke launched into a number of stories about Octavia’s antics over the years, including the prank wars that had led to them meet Jasper and Monty, the finals week in which they made studying into a drinking game (needless to say it was not a good idea), and the time Octavia made a highly sexual joke at a rather inopportune time. Octavia threw in her own jabs and made sure Clarke’s participation in each of the stories was noted. The three of them laughed and enjoyed each other’s company, the time passing easily.

When Lincoln had left to get the next round, Octavia looked intently at Clarke, “So…”

“He’s great, O. The more I talk to him, the more I like him. Not to mention he’s totally into you; don’t think I didn’t pick up on you guys casually holding hands under the table!”

Octavia bit her bottom and smiled, “I really, really like him, Clarke.”

“I know. And unlike most of your previous boyfriends, he gets the Clarke seal of approval.”

Octavia smiled in return, pleased that her best friend had only good things to say.

“Do you guys know the bartender or something?” Lincoln asked as he slid their drinks on the table, having somehow managed to carry all three over.  
Clarke and Octavia simultaneously looked at each other with wide-eyed panic, and exclaimed, “Shit.”

“Congratulations, you just met Octavia’s brother,” Clarke told Lincoln.

“Did he give you a hard time?” Octavia asked, worried.

“Not exactly, he just made some wry comment about how you two would con some guy into getting you drinks and to not get my hopes up.”

“Good. Then he didn’t realize you were actually here with us, or well with Octavia, he wouldn’t give a flying rat’s ass who I was here with,” Clarke said as Octavia sighed with relief.

“I’m confused,” Lincoln confessed.

“Let’s just say my brother can be a bit overprotective,” Octavia supplied.

“And that’s probably stating it mildly,” Clarke added.

...

As the clock was about to strike midnight Raven and Wick walked in and Octavia and Lincoln made their leave. Raven tried to convince them to stay, but Lincoln admitted to having a flight for his next assignment the following morning and Octavia wanted to say her goodbyes. The remaining three made their way to the dance floor. Before long Clarke felt someone tap her shoulder, she turned her head to look over her shoulder and saw a good looking guy who leaned down and yelled in her ear—as that was the only way to hear what was said this close to the DJ—“Do you want to dance?” When Clarke nodded her assent, he placed his hands on her hips and pulled her close, her back to his front, and they began moving to the beat of the music.

A song or so later heard a very loud and angered voice yelled, “Get your hands off her!” Clarke looked to the source of the outraged voice to find none other than Bellamy Blake. _Typical_ , Clarke scoffed as she looked around the dance floor wondering when Octavia had come back to the bar and with whom she was dancing. Clarke kept dancing, until she realized it was her that Bellamy was stalking over to as he yelled his command again. “Get your fucking hands off her!” he shouted at the guy who was holding Clarke’s hips from behind.

“Sorry, dude, I didn’t realize…” Clarke’s partner’s hands immediately fell to his sides and he quickly stepped back before basically running the other direction. _Apparently someone doesn’t have a backbone_ , Clarke rolled her eyes.

Her own backbone went taunt as she turned to Bellamy and yelled through gritted teeth, “What are you doing?”

“His hands were all over you!”

“And…” Clarke said, annoyed that he had ruined a perfectly good time.

“Don’t you know that guys are only after one thing, especially when his hands are all over you like that asshole’s were?”

“Oh, you mean like how your hands were all over Gina the other week and then you went back to her place to hook up?”

“Exactly! Guys just want to hook up!”

“So I can’t just want to hook up?”

“No, you can’t!”

“Why not?”

“That’s not the kind of person you are!”

“You don’t even know me!”

Bellamy growled an incoherent reply.

Clarke continued her rampage, “I’m not Octavia, you’re not my big brother, you have no right to tell me what I can and can’t do, let alone what I can and can’t want. Not that you have the right to tell Octavia that either, but that’s another story for another day. So, why don’t you just Back. The fuck. Off!” With that Clarke whipped around and walked away seething, leaving Bellamy staring into empty space his hands balled into fists at his sides. He turned and strode back to the bar, anger enunciating his every step.

Clarke reached the spot where Raven and Wick had stopped dancing and were staring at the spectacle, much like everyone else in the bar. “What the fuck was that about?” Clarke demanded, not really seeking an answer.

“I have an idea or two…”

“Care to share with the class?” Clarke snapped, exasperated and still fuming.

“Not at the moment,” Raven replied with a smile, one that was mirrored by her fiancé.

“Whatever,” Clarke dismissed.

A few minutes after working off her anger by muttering and sulking, Clarke was somewhat surprised to be approached by a man with long dark hair and pale eyes.

“I’m Roan,” he said holding out his hand.

“Clarke,” she answered, shaking his hand with a coy smile.

“Join me for a dance?”

“I’d love to,” she said with a smile.

As he took her hand and led her toward the DJ he turned over his shoulder and said, “Don’t worry, if your bartender friend tries to bother us again, I won’t tuck my tails between my legs and make a run for it.”

“You saw that?” She asked sheepishly.

“The whole bar did,” he answered truthfully. “But I like a girl with fight in her, and you seem like you could slay mountains,” he added with a wink.

As they began dancing, Roan’s hands found a place snuggly low on her hips, occasionally gliding down to her thighs. Clarke looked up and toward the bar. Bellamy was looking at her a frown upon his face. She made direct eye contact, smiled, and grinded harder against Roan. Bellamy looked down and away, then went to help a customer at the other end of the bar.

* * *

 Bellamy was woken up from the couch in the wee hours of the morning to the sound of someone moving around in the apartment. He sat up, ready to yell at Clarke or Octavia for making noise so early, but was instead greeted by the site of the same guy with whom Clarke had been dancing the night before, not the first guy who had run at the sight of Bellamy, the second one with whom Clarke had seemed to make a point of dancing with, and apparently having sex with, just to piss Bellamy off. After she had caught his eye with basically a challenge to try and stop her, Bellamy had kept to the other half of the bar and made an extended effort not to look at the dance floor again. He succeeded so well, he hadn’t even noticed when she left, and definitely didn’t notice she had left with him.

As the long haired scumbag was closing the door he finally noticed Bellamy’s gaze and had the audacity to give him a head nod. It took all Bellamy’s willpower to not sprint off the couch and hunt down the bastard to punch him in the face.

Bellamy tossed and turned for the next hour, but his blood was boiling too hot for him to fall back asleep. He finally rolled off the couch and made some coffee and got ready for the day. He was just putting his mug in the sink when Clarke entered the kitchen stretching and smiling like a satisfied cat.

“Awe. Leaving so soon?” She asked upon noticing him, “I was just about to poison your coffee.”

“Just put it in your own and solve both our problems,” Bellamy answered and left the apartment in a huff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: There was more to Clarke’s meet and dash in the last chapter than meets the eye. It’s been difficult for me to write Lincoln’s character because he’s a man of few words, but all that he says and does is laced with caring, especially for Octavia. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a very dialogue driven writer (and reader), so trying to write for a character who doesn’t say much is a struggle. And thus, I’m just going to kind of dodge extended conversations with him…


	8. Chapter 8

It was Wednesday, early afternoon and Clarke was walking down the street with Maya, who was a year younger than Clarke and doing work at the Conservation Center to complete her senior thesis in Art History.

“So…I met this guy at the Drop Ship last week,” Maya was telling her. “He’s got brown hair, and brown eyes, and an infectious smile. He’s kind of goofy, but really smart. He just got a degree in Chemistry and is looking into Masters programs for it.”

“Yeah?” Clarke asked, prompting for more.

“His name is Jasper, and—”

“Wait!” Clarke stopped her, “Jasper? As in Jasper Jordon?”

“Yeah, how did you know?” Maya inquired, her brow creasing.

“Do you remember that story I told you about my sophomore year and the prank wars Octavia and I got into that were ended by the dean when someone put baking soda in all the ketchup bottles at my and Octavia’s sorority’s All-American burgers and franks fundraiser?”

Maya laughed, “Yeah.”

“Well, it was none other than Jasper Jordon behind that master plan.” Clarke laughed at the memory, “The dean couldn’t prove it was Jasper, but said he would punish anyone he suspected was the least bit associated if anything else happened. All Jasper did was bemoan the fact it was the rudimentary chemistry that got him in trouble and that he didn’t even have time to get into the, quote, ‘really fun stuff.’”

“Oh my god! I can’t believe they’re the same person!” Maya exclaimed and then got really quiet. “…does that mean you have his phone number?” she asked, blushing furiously.

“As a matter of fact, I do!” Clarke told her happily before reaching into her purse and then reading the number off her phone. Jasper deserved a nice girl like Maya in his life. Clarke only hoped that Jasper wouldn’t rub off too much on the innocent girl, but, then again, maybe they would be a good push and pull on each other; Jasper bringing out a more daring and open side to Maya, and Maya reigning him in just a little.

After walking and chatting, with Maya occasionally texting a certain someone, Clarke saw an old bookstore she insisted they go in; the smell and feel of old books were one of the most comforting things to her.

They both started out by the art and art history books, but Clarke soon began to wander away from Maya who was engrossed in a book about Van Gogh. Clarke trailed her fingers along the spines of the books that lined the weaving shelves and suddenly came to a section of Classical Literature. She stroked the spines of the _Iliad_ and _Aeneid_ in their original Greek and Latin, before picking up a copy of Catullus’ poetry, she opened to a random page and read poem 27, laughing aloud at the line that could be translated literally as “drunker than a drunken grape.” She tucked the book under her arm to buy. She was just about to turn away and find Maya again when she saw a thin hardcover book laying face up on the table _How to Insult, Abuse, and Insinuate in Classical Latin_. Her mind immediate went to Bellamy. Not only were they always insulting and abusing each other, but talking about Latin was the first time they hadn’t been overwhelmed by the desire to throttle one another; the day had ended with only a mild need to thump the other in the head with a Latin dictionary. That book joined the first under her arm. She wandered back to Maya, they paid for their books, and left.

* * *

 Clarke was just putting dinner in the oven when Octavia poked her head into the kitchen, having just come home from work. “Are you wearing the lasagna or are we having it for dinner?” She asked with a laugh.

Clarke turned to her with a smile, “Well, you know, it was such a pretty shade of red, I just had to see if I could pull it off.”

“As beautiful as it is, you might want to change before you get sauce all over the rest of the apartment.”

“You just don’t want Lincoln to think that you live with a slob.”

Octavia shook her head in laughter and went to go put her stuff in her room. She wandered back into the living and saw a couple books on the coffee table. She picked up the first one and flipped through it, but it was all in Latin so she put it back. Her brother and Clarke could read all the Latin they wanted, but it didn’t mean she understood a word of it. She picked up the second book, How to Insult, Abuse, and Insinuate in Classical Latin; this one at least had English translations with the Latin. She began paging backwards through the book, reading several insults and laughing to herself. When she got to the cover page she saw Clarke had handwritten something:

_Bellame Blake, manu sinistra_   
_non belle uteris, in ioco atque aurorae:_   
_tollis pocilla neglegentiorum._   
_Hoc salsum esse putas? Fugit te, inepte:_   
_Quamvis sordida res et invenusta est._   
_Non credis mihi? Crede Octaviae_   
_sorori, qui tua furta vel talent_   
_mutari velit; est enim leporum_   
_differtus puella ac facetaiarum._   
_Quare aut hendecasyllabos trecentos_   
_exspecta, aut mihi pocillum remitte,_   
_quod non me movet aestimatione,_   
_verum est mnemosynum mei sodallis._   
_Nam caffea Saetablle ex Hiberis_   
_miserunt mihi muneri Corvus_   
_et Filum; haec amem necesse est_   
_ut Corvum meum et Filum._

_xoxo,_   
_Clarke_

She didn’t have to know Latin to realize that first phrase meant “Bellamy Blake.” At that point Clarke walked into the room, having changed out of her sauce covered clothing. “Are you writing about my brother in your books now?” She asked teasingly, but desperately needing an answer.

“No!” her friend answered quickly, knowing what Octavia was insinuating. “Well, technically yes,” Clarke admitted and shook her head, before rushing into a defensive explanation. “I found it at a used bookstore. It was like two bucks, so I thought I’d get it for Bellamy. But then when I was reading the book I got for myself—the Catullus that’s on the table—a poem inspired me to write a short dedication to him before I gave him the book.” Clarke reached her hand out for the book, which Octavia gave her. “This roughly translates to:

Bellamy Blake, your left hand  
You do not use it well: in morning and jest  
You take cups of coffee of the more careless.  
Do you think that this is witty? Get lost, foolish man:  
This thing is utterly sordid and unattractive.  
Do you not believe me? Believe Octavia  
Your sister, who would wish that your acts of stealing  
Be changed for even a talent: for the girl  
Is full of wit and charm.  
Thus expect three hundred hendecasyllabic verses  
Or return a cup of coffee to me,  
Which does not move me by means of price,  
But rather it is a remembrance of my friends.  
For Raven and Wick sent Saetaban coffee  
From the Spaniards to me as a gift;  
It must be cherished  
Just as my Raven and Wick must be.”

Octavia burst out laughing at Clarke’s dramatic reading. “So, basically, you’re giving a book full of insults with a handwritten ‘fuck you for stealing my coffee’ note on the inside?”

“Yup,” Clarke said with a smile. “In Catullus’ poem, he’s addressing someone who stole some napkins from him, but I just did a little tweaking of coffee for napkin and of the names and wrote it in there. Oh, and I changed ‘wine’ for ‘morning’ because he wasn’t drunk, just a jackass.”

“I can’t believe you’re still holding onto that! It was like a month ago!”

“No one steals my coffee and gets away with it,” Clarke said with a mock menacing glare.

* * *

 It was Friday night, quarter to 9:00, and Clarke was sitting at the bar at the Drop Ship waiting on a whiskey sour as she wasted time before her friends would show up. Raven had been upset that Clarke and Octavia had had Lincoln over for dinner without inviting her to grill Octavia’s new boyfriend and so the four of them were meeting up for drinks. It wasn’t until after Clarke had gotten to the bar and ordered a drink before she checked her phone and saw that the gathering had been pushed back to 9:30. Clarke just decided to remain at the Drop Ship, rather than walk back to her apartment only to have to turn immediately back around.

“Looking for your next one night stand?” Bellamy asked with a tone Clarke couldn’t quite place, as he set her drink in front of her.

“Oh, you know it,” Clarke said sarcastically. “I’m torn between the middle aged man with a beer belly trying to relive his glory days and the kid who has clearly never been in a bar before.”

That got a small chuckle out of Bellamy as he looked out into the bar. “I don’t know, Princess,” he said. “You might want to avoid cradle robbing, I’m guessing that one comes with a day in court.”

“Psh. He wouldn’t accuse me of statutory rape. I would forever be that beautiful woman who swiped his V-card.” She laughed, “But, maybe you’re right. Beer belly it is!” She mocked getting ready to go talk to him.

“What was that? Did I just hear you say I was right?” Bellamy exclaimed.

“No, I said maybe you’re right.”

“There! You said it again!”

Clarke rolled her eyes, “Don’t you have drinks you should be making?”

Bellamy looked over his shoulder at the rest of the people crowding around the bar, a couple giving him glares. “Yeah, I should probably actually be doing my job. It’s getting pretty busy in here tonight…wait a second, what time is it?” He asked.

“9:05,” Clarke informed him.

“Jasper was supposed to start five minutes ago, where is he? He’s never late,” his facial expression half worried, half annoyed.

“Do you want me to give him a call?” Clarke asked.

“Yeah, could you?”

Clarke nodded and got out her phone as Bellamy began taking someone’s drink order. She found Jasper’s number and hit the call button. She pressed her phone to one ear and her hand to the other to better here in the bar that was getting more and more crowded by the second. The phone rang through and Clarke got his voice mail, she immediately hung up, and hit redial: voicemail again. Now, she was starting to get worried. She called a third time. Right before it was about to go to voicemail yet again, someone picked up.

“Hello? Clarke. Keep it quick, I’m in the middle of a date. A really good date,” Jasper said in a quick whisper.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in the middle of a shift?”

“I asked Harper to cover it, but she said she couldn’t, so I texted Monty.”

“And he said he’d cover it?”

“Well, I didn’t get a response, I just assumed…”

“Jasper!” Clarke shouted exasperatedly

“…And now, that I’m looking at my phone, Monty says he can’t and, and, shit!...how pissed is Bellamy right now?”

“He was more worried, but if he finds out you just didn’t show…”

“Clarke, please, I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to just ditch Maya, but I can’t just leave Bellamy alone. How busy is it?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?” Clarke questioned, looking around at the growing groups and lines surrounding the bar.

“That bad?”

Clarke made an impulse decision. “You know what Jasper, don’t you worry about it, I’ve got you covered. You just have a good time, and make sure you’re nice to Maya because I will be hearing every detail of your date on Monday.”

“Clarke,” Jasper said in a worried tone, “What are you doing?”

“I’m covering your shift.”

“You don’t even work there!”

“But I know how to make a drink, and seriously, when was the last time your boss came in? You’re always saying you never see her.”

“Clarke—”

“Be good to Maya!” Clarke said and hung up the phone before weaving her way to get behind the bar.

She had already finished two transactions before Bellamy noticed her, “What the fuck are you doing, Clarke?!” he screamed.

“Jasper’s not coming, and neither Harper nor Monty could cover his shift, so I’m filling in for him.” Clarke turned to the next person at the bar, “What can I get you?”

“Four tequila shots, Patron,” said the patron.

Clarke began grabbing four shot glasses from under the bar along with the bottle of Patron from the shelf. Bellamy grabbed her wrist, the one not holding the expensive tequila. “Clarke! You don’t work here!”

“Fine! You want to work this crowd alone? Good luck!” She said, tearing her wrist from his grip.

“You don’t even know what you’re doing!”

“Four words: pool house mini bar. How did you think I made it through all those functions with my parents? By eighteen I was a pro.”

Bellamy growled his frustration, but looking at the crowds that were out tonight he knew he was screwed if he had to do it alone, and it wasn’t like he had time to call the boss or someone else to come. “But you don’t know what anything is priced.” His arguments, along with the frustrated tone, were weakening.

“I’ve been coming to this bar for a few years and I’ve been to plenty of other bars, so I’ve got a good idea. If I have any questions, I’ll ask.” Clarke looked him in the eye, holding his gaze with a stubborn look. He needed her; if he was going to survive the night and not lose The Drop Ship business or money, he needed her help.  
Clarke watched the internal debate flicker across his eyes. Finally, he took a deep breath and said, “Okay,” he sighed, “but my boss _NEVER_ finds out about this. And you ask me _the second_ you have even the _slightest_ question about a drink, a price, anything.”

“Deal,” Clarke said with a nod. “Now maybe we should get back to work.” Their conversation had taken less than a minute, but the people surrounding the bar were impatient and angry seeing the only to bartenders talking to each other rather than helping any customers.

Before they knew it, it was half an hour till closing. The bar had quieted down as the bar hoppers made their way elsewhere and others had called it a night. Clarke and Bellamy had worked flawlessly together, weaving around each other, handing over a bottle if the other was closer; it was like a goddamn choreographed dance.

“Admit it, I was the best co-worker you’ve ever had,” Clarke said elbowing Bellamy in the gut as they leaned against the back counter behind the bar.

“Not a chance I’m ever going to admit that,” Bellamy replied.

“Ah, see you know it’s true, you’re just refusing to admit it,” Clarke smiled up at him, a saw a soft smile alighting his features as well. They held eye contact for a moment. Bellamy opened his mouth to say something when Octavia plopped onto a stool at the bar, Raven and Lincoln joining her.

“So, you gonna tell me why you’re playing bartender tonight, Clarke?” she asked.

“Jasper was on a date and thought Monty was going to cover for him, but Monty couldn’t so…yeah, here I am.”

It was at this point that Bellamy was taking a hard look at Lincoln, specifically he was looking at how Lincoln’s hand was gently resting on Octavia’s leg. “I’d suggest you move your hand,” Bellamy said menacingly to Lincoln.

“I’m sorry?” Lincoln said, looking at Bellamy slightly confused, Clarke couldn’t tell if it was genuine or mock confusion.

“Bellamy,” Octavia warned at the same time.

“I said, get your hand off of my sister,” Bellamy reiterated through gritted teeth.

Lincoln’s hand didn’t move. He just continued to make direct eye contact with Bellamy. “I think it’s Octavia’s choice whether or not she wants my hand there,” he said simply. While Clarke could clearly see how built Lincoln was, he had never seemed to use it to look intimidating, that was, until this very moment. If Clarke hadn’t seen how sweet he was with Octavia, or how animated and passionate he got when discusses his work and art with her, Clarke would have gone running in the other direction had Lincoln’s gaze been directed at her. But Bellamy did not share that sentiment, instead he used his own height and build to make himself seem more threatening.

“So I take it you two haven’t met,” Raven broke in, trying her best to relieve some pressure. “Allow me the honor. Lincoln, this is Bellamy, Octavia’s overbearing, overprotective brother. Bellamy, this is Lincoln, Octavia’s boyfriend who she really likes and doesn’t want to see get in a fist fight with her brother.” The two men continued to stare each other down in silence, neither seeming to have heard Raven. Clarke settled her hand on Bellamy’s right bicep, trying to soothe him. She could feel the tautness of his bunched muscles. She ran her hand down the length of his arm and rubbed her thumb across the back of his balled fist. After a minute, his shoulders lost some of their stiffness and Clarke unfurled his fingers, continuing to gently massage his hand, which then interlocked their fingers and gave her a small squeeze. Clarke sighed, at least no punches were going to be thrown tonight.

The two men maintained eye contact, lost in a test of wills; tensions were high and no one heard a third party approach until she spoke, “Bellamy! And…I don’t seem to remember hiring you…” Whosever voice it was seemed to jerk Bellamy out of the trance he was in.

“Lexa!” he quickly greeted the newcomer, releasing Clarke’s hand.

“Can I have a moment, Bellamy?” she asked and started to walk away from the group.

“See, this is why I told you not to help,” Bellamy hissed to Clarke.

“You guys say she never comes in. She has like ten other bars she owns,” Clarke hissed back.

“Twelve. But she usually spends her time relaxing at Trikru or trying to keep Ice Nation in check,” Bellamy returned, starting in the direction Lexa had gone. “If I get fired, I’m blaming you,” he whispered over his shoulder.

Clarke sunk her head into her hands, resting her elbows on the bar, and took a deep breath. She did not want to be responsible for Bellamy losing his job.

She heard Octavia murmuring a quiet goodbye to Lincoln who clearly didn’t want to leave things as they were with Bellamy, himself, and her.

“Bellamy’s already on edge and with his boss coming in, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to stick around,” she told him.

“I’m not one to run away from a fight, especially when it comes to you,” Lincoln returned, his voice softening for the second half of the sentence.

“I know. I know. But we’ll do it some other time. I promise.”

Lincoln must have nodded his response because the next thing Clarke heard was Lincoln’s voice from a little further away. “Text me when you get home.”

“You too,” replied Octavia.

A minute later Bellamy returned to the group. Clarke looked up anxiously as she heard his footsteps approach; she bit her lips, eyes laced with worry and question.

“So?” She asked quietly.

“I, uh, got a promotion…” Bellamy said, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck, not quite believing it himself.

“What?” the three girls crowed in unison.

“Yeah. I took responsibility for Clarke being behind the bar even though she doesn’t work here, Lexa asked how the night went, I told her, and then said I made a good decision, and asked if I wanted to be the manager here.”

“That’s great, Bell!” Octavia exclaimed.

“Oh, and she wanted me to offer you a job, Clarke.”

“She? What? I—uh.” Clarke stammered, the results being the exact opposite of what she had anticipated. “Heck yeah, I’ll take the job!” She said after having aligned her thoughts. Now, she could stop applying for those other jobs and be a contributing member of their household! “Wait a second, let’s backtrack here.” Clarke said, holding up a finger. “You said she asked how the night went, which means that you must have told her I’m the best co-worker you’ve ever had.” She harkened back to their earlier conversation. “You admitted it! Ha!”

“You have no proof of that!” Bellamy said, laughing.

“Yes I do,” Clarke retorted. “I got a job,” she said motioning to herself, “and you got a promotion,” she poked him in the chest as she spoke.

Bellamy grabbed the hand that had poked him and held onto it, “And you know what that means?” He asked, a gleam in his eye, “I’m your boss now, so you have to be nice to me.”

“Good thing I got you a present that’s waiting in our apartment,” Clarke teased.

“You got me a present?” Bellamy inquired, baffled.

“Yup. And I added a personal inscription and everything,” Clarke chuckled to herself, remembering exactly what the inscription was.

“Get a room!” Octavia yelled teasingly.

“Seriously, though,” Raven agreed. “And people say Wick and I have been sickening sweet since the engagement.”

Bellamy immediately dropped Clarke’s hand at the same moment she took a big step away.

“We are not—”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” the two stammered avoiding eye contact with everyone in the vicinity.

“Whatever you say,” Octavia said with a roll of her eyes. “I’m going back to the apartment to crash. I assume you two can get there okay?” They nodded.

“My uber is outside waiting for me, anyway,” Raven said. “And by uber, I mean, uber-awesome fiancé!”

“This is why people say you’re sickeningly sweet,” Clarke said shaking her head at her friend, trying to hide the smile that was creeping onto her face.

“Can you and Wick drop Octavia off?” Bellamy asked.

“Geez, Bell, it’s barely two blocks,” Octavia complained.

“Two blocks you’re walking alone, at night.”

“I have pepper spray,” she argued.

“Come on, Octavia,” Raven said, pulling on her arm, “The sooner you give in, the sooner you’ll be home,” she reasoned.

After they left Clarke turned to Bellamy, “She only does that to push your buttons, you know?” she reassured him. “She really does appreciate you looking out for her, just maybe try to do it a little less when it comes to her boyfriends. Lincoln really is a great guy.”

Bellamy grunted in return and mumbled something about cleaning up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact #1: How to Insult, Abuse, and Insinuate in Classical Latin is a real book and is truly amusing to read.
> 
> Fun Fact #2: The poem Clarke rewrote is Catullus 12. I got really excited when changing the names because first Octavia, as you know, is named after someone from ancient Rome (Augustus’ sister) so her name was easy to fit in there. For Raven and Wick I used the Latin words for their names as in the bird and the wick of a candle (yeah, wick was a bit of a stretch). For Bellamy, I just kind of threw on a vocative ending and called it a day because there’s no word that would be close for him. I am a little upset that the meter of the poem is now off because of the name and object changes, but I figured it’d be okay for the sake of the plot, though I imagine Clarke would have put the effort into keeping it in hendecasyllabic verses rather than just substituting words, but I haven’t taken Latin in a year and I always hated meter, so...


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is just kind of a hodge-podge of Bellarke moments, it kind of jumps around, adding little pokes and prods to move along the plot and their relationship.

On Sunday morning an exhausted Clarke was lazily sipping her coffee, still wearing her short sleep shorts and the comfy tank-top in which she had slept. She was leaning on the kitchen counter, browsing through social media on her phone when it rang. “Hello?” she answered.

“Hey Clarke, it’s Octavia.”

“Why are you calling my phone?” Clarke asked, confused, “Are you going to try to convince me to bring you breakfast in bed, again? Because we both know that’s not going to happen.” She nodded to Bellamy as he walked into the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee. Clarke tried not to notice the fact that he was shirtless, but her eyes were immediately drawn to the planes of his sculpted chest. When he turned his back to her as he poured his coffee, she admired the muscles on his back as well, before she settled her gaze on his ass. Her mind drifted a little before she snapped back to reality and quickly looked away, admonishing herself and dragging her attention back to what Octavia was saying.

“That’s the thing…I’m not in _my_ bed…I’m in Lincoln’s,” the last bit was followed by a fit of happy giggles.

“Is that so?” Clarke teased. “And you just wanted to brag about it?”

“Yes,” Octavia admitted, “but no, I wanted to see if you could distract Bellamy or something so that he doesn’t notice I’m not home. I’ll be on my way soon, so that we can do our Sunday lunch, but after Friday’s meet and greet with him and Lincoln, I can’t imagine him having a good reaction to me spending the night here.”

“And how, pray tell, am I supposed to do _that_?” Clarke asked, now keenly aware of the other Blake who was now looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Who’s on the phone?” he asked. An innocent question, one Clarke normally wouldn’t have a problem with, but seeing as though she was supposed to be keeping him from knowing Octavia wasn’t home…

“No one,” she replied quickly.

“I don’t know get him in the shower or something,” Octavia suggested.

“Think over what you just said,” Clarke said, her own mind having done so as soon as the words left Octavia’s mouth, much to her embarrassment. She sure hoped the other Blake didn’t notice the pink that was grazing her cheeks.

“So you’re talking to yourself?” Bellamy questioned.

“Yup. Just me, myself, and I,” Clarke replied walking to the living room, trying to get away from Bellamy and his questions. It didn’t work; he followed her.

“Oh, god!” Octavia exclaimed in surprise and disgust as she thought back on her words. “I know I said, ‘get a room’ on Friday, but I didn’t mean our bathroom! I use that shower! Anyway, can you get him to not be in the kitchen or living room in about fifteen minutes so that I can sneak in and act like I was there the whole time?”

“I can do my best, but no guarantees, O.” _Shit, shit, SHIT!_

“Are you talking to Octavia?” Bellamy asked.

 _Shit, shit, SHIT!_ “No…I’m talking to my friend…Oliver. He’s a friend. From work.” Clarke tried to explain away, backing away.

“Don’t tell me he’s right there,” Octavia said, finally realizing what Clarke was going through.

“Oh, Princess, you’re a horrible liar,” Bellamy said, shaking his head and taking a step toward her. Clarke took another step back.

“Fine, it’s Octavia,” Clarke admitted. “She spent the night at Raven and Wick’s.”

“Then why were you trying to hide it from me?” Bellamy asked, taking another step toward Clarke. “Just let me talk to her if it’s all so innocent,” a devilish smirk appeared on his lips as he held out his hand for her phone.

Octavia was saying something in her ear, but Clarke wasn’t paying attention. “She, uh—, um…” Clarke took a couple steps, Bellamy mirroring her actions, and she managed to get the coffee table in between them, her back to the couch. The smirk had not left Bellamy’s face. When she took a step to the right, he followed her moments. When she took a step to the left, he took one in the same direction. Then Clarke noticed a sudden spark in his eye as an idea came to him. She looked at him suspiciously. Next thing she knew he had placed a foot on the coffee table and launched himself at her, tackling her onto the couch.

She squirmed underneath his weight, he had somehow managed not to complete break or crush her in his efforts. She squeaked and squawked and giggled as she tried to wiggle her way out from under him, but she was soon thoroughly pinned horizontal on the couch, his knees on either side of her hips. Her last stitch effort to keep the phone away from him was to extend her arm as far above her head as she could. She should have known better because his long arms let one hand easily pluck her phone out her grasp, while the other gathered both her wrists and pinned them to her chest. He triumphantly brought the phone to his ear and with a smile down at his captive said, “So, Octavia, where are you really this morning?...Octavia?...Are you there?...Octavia?” He pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it. “I guess she hung up. Now I’ll just have to get my information out of you!” He set Clarke’s phone done on the coffee table and looked down at her with a mischievous smile. “So, where’s Octavia?” he asked in such a casual tone if anyone had only heard it and not seen that she was currently pinned down on the couch or witnessed what had just transpired just, they would have thought nothing of it.

“You’re getting nothing out of me!” Clarke said defiantly, but smiling up at her captor.

“Well, then I’ll just have to torture it out of you!” And with that Bellamy removed his hand that had been pinning hers and with his other as well began to mercilessly tickle her.

“No! Stop!” Clarke cried between giggles.

Bellamy paused his assault, “Does that mean you’re going to tell me?”

Clarke shook her head, “I cannot betray a friend.”

“I’ll get you talking; it’ll just be a matter of time,” Bellamy resumed his tickling. Clarke alternated between trying to protect her sides and trying to grab his hands and hold them aloft, laughing constantly.

“I—I—I can’t—breathe!” she gasped out between giggles. Bellamy pulled back with a content smile on his face and let her sit up and try to catch her breath, allowing her to bring her knees up, so he wasn’t looming over her anymore. When she was breathing normally, he looked over at her casually, aside from the big smile that was stretched from ear to ear.

“So, where’s Octavia this morning?”

“Why don’t you just ask her when she gets home?” Clarke said in a teasing tone and leapt off the couch before he could catch a hold of her again. She nearly succeeded in her dash for the kitchen and her abandoned cup of coffee before she felt strong arms wrap about her waist and lift her off the floor.

Bellamy let out a full hearted laugh as she squealed in protest. “But this is so much more fun.”

“Can I at least have my coffee?” Clarke pouted.

“Well, according to the poem in the book you got me, I _do_ owe you that.” He relented and let her go to her coffee. As she picked up the mug, which still had some warmth left, she turned to lean against the counter and face Bellamy who was leaning against the other.

They smiled at each other over their coffee mugs. “What’s it going to take for you to tell me where Octavia is this morning?”

“Mum’s the word,” Clarke replied. Now, it wasn’t just on the principle of not betraying a friend that she wouldn’t tell him, but she wanted to tease and get under his skin a little. “She’ll be home soon.”

“Hrmph,” Bellamy grunted, narrowing his eyes, the smile never leaving his face, nor the twinkle leaving his eyes.

Ten minutes later, minutes that were filled with more teasing and light flirting—though neither would admit to the latter if asked—Octavia came casually walking through the door of the apartment.

“So, O, where’ve you been?” Bellamy asked.

“And I believe that’s my cue…” Clarke said and made a break for her room to let the siblings hash out their issues. As she closed her door she heard Bellamy’s raised voice: “You were _where_?!”

* * *

 

On Wednesday morning around 10:00, Bellamy let himself into Octavia and Clarke’s apartment. He had looked _everywhere_ for his annotated copy of Ovid’s _Metamorphoses_ , and the only place let it could be was here. He knew Octavia had to be in the office by 8:00 and he figured it would be around the same for the Conservation Center based on the times Clarke had left for work before he got up when he spent a weeknight at their place. He and Octavia had made up after their spat on Sunday, but he still wasn’t in the mood run into her and Lincoln, which according to Clarke was becoming a regular occurrence at the apartment in the evenings.

He made his way to straight to the living room and saw his book sitting on the coffee table. When he picked it up, he realized the music he had been hearing was coming from the kitchen, not from a neighboring apartment like he had originally thought. He stepped into the doorway of the kitchen and was greeted by the sight of Clarke dancing around and singing Taylor Swift…in her underwear, more specifically a maroon lacey bra and maroon cotton bottoms that said “Sunday” across the back.

“Heartbreakers gonna break, break, break, break, break; And the fakers gonna fake, fake, fake, fake, fake; I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake,” Clarke shouted into a wooden spoon as she, true to the lyrics of the song, shook her hips in a way that sent Bellamy’s mind straight to the gutter.

His eyes roamed her nearly naked form appreciatively, his mind supplying more than a few inappropriate things he would like to do. Wait a second! What was he thinking? No, no, no. He could not possibly be having these thoughts about Clarke Griffin! Okay, clearly he was having these thoughts, but the point was that he shouldn’t be having them. Clarke was annoying, and argumentative, and self-righteous, and smart, and witty, and someone who he really wanted to push up against that fridge and kiss. What? No! His internal quarrel was interrupted with a startled squawk. Clarke had noticed his presence as well as where his eyes had been currently drifting as she “shook it off.”

He watched as several emotions flitted across her eyes: surprise, confusion, embarrassment, shocked embarrassment (she must have realized exactly what she was, or rather wasn’t, wearing). She finally settled on indignation. “Bellamy Blake! Were you just checking out my ass?” He couldn’t help but notice that her crossed arms only pushed up her breasts.

“In your dreams, Princess.” _Or at least in mine_ his traitorous libido added as he glanced at her chest again.

“What are you even doing here?” She demanded.

He met her eyes and held up his book in response. “I would ask what you’re doing here, but clearly…” he said gesturing to her body.

“And now you’re staring at my boobs,” she said accusingly. It was not a question this time. However, Bellamy did notice a smile trying to creep its way onto her face.

“I am not!” he retorted, knowing very well that he was, this time not bothering to try to hide the angle of his gaze.

“Well, because some of us can’t be respectful adults and not gawk at people who have the perfect right to wear whatever they want in their own apartment when they’re supposed to be home alone, I’m going to go put some clothes on,” Clarke said in a huff and walked out of the kitchen. And he’d be damned if she didn’t put an extra sway into her hips as she walked off. “Oh, and can you take the cookies out of the oven if the timer goes off?” She called over her shoulder.

“I come for my book and you put to work,” Bellamy grumbled. “This is why you don’t have friends!” he called after her teasingly.

“I do have friends!” she defended from her room. “And they’re the ones who will get to eat those cookies, not you!”

“Well, if I’m the one taking them out of the oven, I’m sure as hell having some!”

Clarke walked back into the kitchen just as Bellamy was setting the cookie pan on the stove. She now wore a baggy pair of sweatpants and an Augustana t-shirt, though Bellamy much preferred her previous attire.

“Thanks, Bell,” Clarke said with a smile.

“I should be getting to campus,” Bellamy told her as he set the oven mitts on the counter, “I really just came to get this book. I have the class I TA for in an hour.”

“Sure, I see how it is,” Clarke replied in a mocking annoyed tone, “you make me go through the effort of putting on some real clothes and then you leave.”

“Hey, I didn’t tell you to put on clothes; I was perfectly happy with what you had on,” he said honestly starting on his way to the door.

Clarke rolled her eyes and wrapped a couple cookies in a paper towel and handed it to Bellamy. “Some cookies for your travels,” she said.

“So, I _am_ one of your friends!” Bellamy exclaimed in sarcastic surprise.

Clarke stuck her tongue out at him, “Just take your cookies and go.”

Just before he closed the door, Bellamy stuck his head back in, “By the way, it’s Wednesday, not Sunday,” he said with his signature smirk.

He closed the door, but was still heard Clarke yell, “I hate you!” through the door; the smile evident in her voice.

* * *

 Clarke’s phone buzzed with a text message.

Bellamy Blake  
I just wanted to make sure you put on  
the right underwear today; it’s Friday,  
not Sunday.  
5:06 pm

That joke wasn’t funny on Saturday when  
you first said it  
5:07 pm

Or on Monday  
5:07 pm

Or Wednesday  
5:07 pm

Just let it die already  
5:07 pm

I don’t know what you’re talking about.  
I’m hilarious!  
5:08 pm

You can’t see it, but I’m rolling my  
eyes right now  
5:08 pm

You love it.  
5:08 pm

Nope. Literally just walked in the door. I’m  
not dealing with your shit tonight  
5:09 pm

Too late. I’ll be on my way in a bit for the  
movie night.  
5:09 pm

What movie night?  
5:09 pm

O is forcing me to come to your place to  
“get to know her boyfriend.”  
5:10 pm

 

Before Clarke could compose her next text, her phone began to ring. “What is this about your brother coming over for a movie night?” She asked in greeting.

“Um, yeah, I was meaning to talk to you about that…I want Bellamy to get to know Lincoln since we’re officially official, and I was really hoping you could be there because you calmed Bell down the last time they were face to face. I don’t really know how you did it. I thought he was going to leap over the bar and start throwing punches, but you calmed him down and then if it wasn’t for his boss—your boss—showing up, I don’t know what would have happened, but, but I just really need you there to keep the peace…Please!” Octavia rapidly spit out.

“So, basically you want me to hang out with you, your boyfriend, and your brother because you think I can somehow make an incredibly tense situation less tense?” Clarke said apprehensively. It was to say the least, not her ideal Friday night.

“Yeah…please, Clarke! You’re a peacebuilder. I can’t do this without you.”

Clarke sighed, knowing it was better to just give in than to prolong the inevitable. “Anything for you, Octavia. You know that,” Clarke said with a smile and a headshake.

“You’re the best!”

“I know, I know. What were you calling about anyway?”

“This, actually…Wait a second, if I hadn’t told you, how did you know?”

“Bellamy texted me,” Clarke replied simply.

“Oh really, now?” Octavia said, if she had been in the same room, Clarke knew she would have seen Octavia’s eyebrows wiggling suggestively.

“Now don’t go getting any ideas in your head. He was just getting under my skin, per usual.” Clarke said with a roll of her eyes, knowing exactly what her friend was insinuating and it was completely off-base.

“So, flirting?” Octavia replied in a tone as though what she suggested was completely obvious.

“I’m hanging up now,” Clarke replied tersely. There was no way Bellamy was flirting with her and it was equally impossible that she was flirting with him. He was _Bellamy_ , Octavia’s older brother, who she could not stand and who couldn’t stand her, there was nothing other than the _possibility_ of a blooming friendship.  
Octavia wouldn’t let up. “Sure, hang up on me, so you can talk to my brother. I see who your favorite Blake is now.”

“Seriously. Hanging up. Good-bye, Octavia.”

“Bye, Clarke. Enjoy texting Bell!”

“I hate you.”

“You love me. See you tonight!” Octavia said and hung up.

Clarke returned to her text conversation, choosing to ignore her friend’s insinuation there was something more to it.

Nevermind. O just called and explained  
5:12 pm

I see how it is. You don’t believe me until  
my sister backs up my story.  
5:13 pm

Exactly  
5:13 pm

So, what time are you going to be here?  
5:13 pm

O said no later than 7:00, 6:30 preferable.  
5:14 pm

So, basically I only have time for a shower  
and a quick dinner  
5:14 pm

Great  
5:14 pm

See you at 6:30. Enjoy your shower.  
5:15 pm

Remember to put on the right underwear.  
5:15 pm

Maybe I just won’t put on any underwear,  
and then there’s nothing for you to gripe about  
5:15 pm

As soon as she hit send on that message, Clarke realized what she had said and turned bright red. Informing a guy you weren’t going to wear underwear was definitely not in the “possible blooming friendship” zone. In fact, it went right past light flirting and crept into “I want to/do have a sexual relationship with you” zone. Clarke immediately put down her phone, intending not to look at Bellamy’s response. Her curiosity got the better of her.

Oh really now? ;)  
5:15 pm 

* * *

 

Clarke had put on her _Starry Night_ pajama pants and matching tank, paired with a giant Ark Corporations sweatshirt that had belonged to her dad and a fuzzy pair of socks. Her hair was thrown up in a messy bun. She was sitting on the couch eating the last of her frozen pizza dinner when Bellamy let himself in.

Clarke turned over her shoulder, “Do you even know how to knock?”

“The door was open, and even if it wasn’t I have a key,” Bellamy returned.

“Still doesn’t mean you should just walk into someone’s apartment.”

“But then, I’d miss the Taylor Swift concert,” Bellamy said with a wink.

Clarke glared at him, but made no direct response, instead changing the subject, “O said they’re running a little late, but we should pick a movie for when they get here.”

“Alright, there’s this really awesome history documentary I saw on Netflix—“

“No. Veto. Not in the mood for documentaries. I need something exciting that will keep me awake.”

“Okay…Braveheart?” Bellamy suggested.

“Too long and drawn out; I’d fall asleep.”

“The Count of Monte Cristo?”

“Too long.”

“Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part II?”

“You can’t just jump in the end!” Clarke exclaimed, sitting upright.

“But you’ve seen all the other movies and read the books. It’s not like you don’t know what happened.”

“Sure. But how do we know that Lincoln has?” Clarke countered.

“Who hasn’t?”

“I don’t know, weird people. Plus The Prisoner of Azkaban is the best one anyway.”

“No way! Half-Blood Prince!”

“Then why did you suggest Deathly Hallows?”

“Because I watched Part I the other day.”

“So, really you’re just usurping movie night for your own endgame?” Clarke questioned, curious to see how far this argument could go before Bellamy put a stop to it.

“No!” he exclaimed. “Okay, yes. But everyone could get enjoyment out of it.”

“Not if they don’t know the rest of the plot.”

“We’ve already established only weird people haven’t seen the movies,” Bellamy said with an aggravated tone.

“I’ve only known Lincoln for a month; I don’t know his life.”

“So you don’t even really know him, yet you say you like him well enough to go out with my sister?”

“What?” Clarke exclaimed, confused as to the shift in topic, “How did we get here?”

“You’re the one who brought up Lincoln.” Bellamy retorted.

“Yeah, in reference to Harry Potter. He’s a great guy. Knowledge of good ole H.P. is not going to make or break his and Octavia’s relationship.”

“Yeah, well—”

“Just pick a movie! And nothing history heavy!”

Bellamy started a response before he instead said, “Wait a second, you’re arguing with me just to argue aren’t you?” Bellamy said, finally catching on to Clarke’s game.

She couldn’t help the smile creeping onto her face, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Bellamy shook his head, a smile alighting his face as well. “I say we watch Prisoner of Azkaban and then Half Blood Prince and figure out which really is the better movie.”

“You’re on! But you’re not going to change my mind. Prisoner of Azkaban has the introduction of Sirius and Remus, clearly I’ve got the advantage.” Clarke said triumphantly.

“The Half-Blood Prince is Snape, and he has the best backstory in the history of backstories. And you’re arguing with me again.”

“Well then just put in the movie,” Clarke said with a smile.

“Maybe I will!”

After putting in the movie, Bellamy settled onto the opposite end of the couch as Clarke, resting his feet upon the coffee table. When Aunt Marge started blowing up like a balloon, Clarke reached out her foot and kicked him repeatedly, “See, see? This movie already has one of the best before Hogwarts sequences! She’s full of hot air! Oh, the puns!”

Bellamy grabbed her foot and held onto it, keeping it in his lap. “Puns are great, but plot is better and then there’s sub-plot. Half-Blood Prince has that in spades.”

“Two words: time travel.” Clarke said, trying to get her foot back. When he refused to release it, she tried to kick his grasp with her other foot, which resulted only in getting that foot captured as well. “Give me back my feet,” she pouted.

“No,” was all Bellamy said and he turned back to the movie.

Clarke pouted for a bit as Bellamy kept his hold. But, even after he released his grip she kept them in his lap as they watched the movie in companionable silence.

The next thing she knew, she felt a strong arm go under her knees and another wrap around her back, and start to lift her off the couch. “What’s going on?” she mumbled.

“You fell asleep, Princess. We barely made it past the Hogwarts Express before you passed out. I was going to put you in your bed.”

“No,” Clarke protested, starting to squirm, “I promised Octavia I would keep the peace. I’ll stay awake this time.”

Bellamy relented and placed her back to her spot on the couch. “If you say so,” he said.

Five minutes later Clarke crawled across the couch, reaching over Bellamy to grab a blanket that was draped on the armchair next to the couch. “What are you doing?” Bellamy asked startled, looking down at the girl stretched across his lap.

“Blanket,” Clarke explained and she settled back on her heels next to Bellamy.

“Because that will keep you awake,” Bellamy commented sarcastically.

“Hmph,” Clarke huffed, “I was going to share, but now…”

“No, I want some blanket,” Bellamy said quickly. “Blankets make movies better.”

“That’s what I thought,” Clarke said with a smile as she curled up next to Bellamy, covering them both with the blanket.

* * *

 Octavia let herself into her apartment, holding hands with Lincoln, she led him towards the living room. She was about to yell, “We’re back, bitches!” but then she saw a sight that if someone had described it to her a month ago she would have called them a liar: Clarke was curled up on the couch, her head resting on Bellamy’s shoulder; Bellamy, in turn, had an arm around her shoulders and his head rested gently on hers. They were both fast asleep. On the TV, Harry and Hermione were in the hospital wing just about to use the time turner.

* * *

 

A week later, Clarke and Octavia were sitting around Raven’s living room, dozens of bridal and wedding magazines on the table and floor surrounding them.  
“Octavia, I have no idea why you brought so many magazines! I told you I want a small, simple wedding,” Raven said as she flipped through a thick catalog of wedding dresses.

“Big or small, you want to see all the options out there,” Octavia explained with a knowledgeable tone.

Clarke looked at her friend who has staring at the stacks of magazines, “Worst case scenario,” she said, “you find out exactly what you don’t want.”

Raven gazed at the dozens of magazines again before stating, “I’m over this, let’s talk about a new relationship…Octavia! How’s Lincoln?”

“He’s great. Really great,” she said with a grin from ear to ear. “I’ve never had a relationship like this one before; I can actually see this going somewhere.”

Clarke chuckled, “Yeah, because Lincoln has more than just two brain cells working. The same couldn’t be said about some of the other guys you’ve dated.”

“Yeah,” Raven agreed, “the guys you tend to date have more blood rushing south than north, if you get my drift.”

“You guys are so mean!” Octavia protested.

“Sure, but it doesn’t mean we’re not right,” Raven replied.

“I—uh…”

“See,” Clarke added with a laugh, “you can’t even defend them.”

“Moving on to my successful relationship,” Octavia said dramatically, “want to see some pictures from the hike we did last Saturday?”

“Sure,” Raven said.

“Of course,” Clarke adjoined.

Octavia opened her phone and started flipping through her photos. Clarke and Raven ooo’d and ahh’d at them while Octavia described the day with excitement. She flipped past the last photo and one of Clarke and Bellamy curled up on the couch last Friday opened.

“When I said I wanted to talk about new relationships, I meant the newest! Clarke, why didn’t you bring this up! Or you, Octavia!” Raven shouted, both offended and excited.

“It’s not a thing! When did you take this, O?!” Clarke shouted in surprise at the photo. However, as soon as she asked it, she knew the answer to the question. She remembered last Friday night. She had woken up sleepily and realized she was curled up, snuggling with someone on the couch. Her first instinct had been to snuggle closer to the warm body and comforting scent, then her brain kicked in that it was Bellamy with whom she was cuddling. She had paused briefly before following her instinct of nuzzling closer; she had been rewarded with a happy sigh and a tightening of an arm around her. She blushed at the memory and hoped they didn’t notice.

“By the blush on your face, I would say you remember exactly when this was taken,” Octavia said with a smile.

“Seriously! Since when was this a thing?” Raven demanded.

“It’s not a thing!” Clarke repeated. “I mean, I slept with Roan like two weeks ago!”

“Three,” Octavia corrected. “And a lot can happen in three weeks.”

“Plus, we all know you just did that to get back at Bellamy for that Gina chick,” Raven added.

“No. I—what? No!” Clarke stuttered. She huffed, crossing her arms and shaking her head at her friends.

“Admit it, Clarke. You like him,” Raven said, nudging her arm.

“No, I don’t.”

“Yeah,” Octavia said sarcastically, “That’s why you guys have been all buddy-buddy and flirting with your Latin and pranks and getting him presents.”

“One: I was doing him a favor with the Latin; two: he needed to pay for stealing my coffee; and three: the book was like two dollars!”

“Yeah, and when was the last time you got me a two dollar present for no reason?” Octavia questioned.

Clarke deadpanned, “I buy you like a five dollar coffee pretty much every week.”

“Not the same thing.”

“It’s not like it’s one-sided either,” Raven mused. “He practically attacked that guy at the Drop Ship.”

It was Octavia’s turn to be shocked. “What?!” she shouted.

“Yeah, it was that same night Clarke slept with Roan. Right after you and Lincoln left. Clarke was dancing with a guy—before Roan—and Bellamy freaked the fuck out, screaming at the guy to get his hands off her.”

“Oh. My. God.” Octavia said, stunned. “And here I was just going to say something about how he’s always being a flirt and texting her.”

“Wait, how often are they texting?” Raven asked, excitedly intrigued.

“I swear every time I’m with one or the other, they texting. Like I bet if we checked Clarke’s phone, she’ll have texted him within the last 24 hours.”

“Guys, I’m sitting right here,” Clarke said, exasperatedly.

“Shush, I’m forming an idea.” Raven said waving her off. “Do the rest of the group know about this?”

“They’d be blind not to,” Octavia answered. “Jasper and Monty work with them for god’s sake. And Lincoln was there when I found them on the couch.”

Raven shuffled the magazines on the table and found a pad of paper and pencil and started writing on it. “Alright, Octavia, what day are you taking?”

“Huh?” Octavia asked, confused.

“I’m going to start a bet in our group for the day Clarke and Bellamy hook up, ‘cause we all know that’s happening. Let’s say five dollar buy in?”

“Literally, sitting right here,” Clarke enunciated.

“I would let you in, but you have a little too much control over the end result, so…” Raven told her.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Clarke stood up, turning to her friends. She couldn’t believe they thought her and Bellamy were a…a…she couldn’t even bring herself to define what they were saying. He was _Bellamy_ , Octavia’s annoying asshole of a brother. Okay, he actually wasn’t that bad, but that didn’t mean she wanted to hook up with him or date him. Okay, maybe the thought had crossed her mind once…or twice…a day. No. Not okay. “You know what. I’m getting in on this bet and you know what date I’m picking? Never! We’re not going to hook up, we’re not going to start dating. It’s not going to happen.”

“Wait, I never said anything about dating!” Raven said excitedly.

“You want to date him?” Octavia asked in the same tone. “Oh my god! I ship it! The more I think about it, the more I see how you two are perfect for each other!”

“That’s it. I’m out. I’ll leave you to your delusions,” Clarke headed for the door. When she was in the elevator she got out her phone without thinking and composed a text to Bellamy.

You want to hear something outrageous?  
Raven is starting a bet on when we’re  
going to hook up  
2:49 pm

As soon as she hit send, she realized she was doing exactly what Octavia had accused of her. She shoved her phone in her purse and refused to look at it when it buzzed, notifying her of his response.


	10. Chapter 10

On Thursday Bellamy was sitting at his desk in at the university grading papers when his phone began to ring. “Hello?” he answered.

“Hey, Bell. It’s O. I was just wondering if you could do me a _huge_ favor…” he could hear the puppy dog eyes in her voice, a tone of voice he had definitely heard more than his fair share while raising this wild child.

“What do you need, Octavia?” he asked, exasperated; if only he had learned to say “no” to his sister at least once.

“Well, you know today is Clarke’s birthday…”

“Yeah.”

“And you know we’re all going out to dinner…”

“Yeah…”

“Well…I was supposed to pick her up and bring her to dinner, but my client just pushed back the meeting until 4:30, and then I have to pick up the cake and such, and could you pick her up?”

“Yeah, sure, O. What time?”

“5:00. Thanks, big brother! You’re the best! Got to go!” Octavia hung up before he could even say goodbye.

Bellamy shook his head at his energetic sister. He really didn’t mind picking up Clarke to bring her to dinner. In fact, it was probably good because it meant she could open his present in private, instead of having everyone around them analyzing what he had gotten her, especially since they apparently had a bet going for when he and Clarke were going to hook up. He had laughed out loud at that text when he first got it from Clarke responding with a “Hahaha. Seriously?!” But she never responded back to him. She hadn’t really responded to any of his other texts this week either, just short little clips after he had prodded her several times.

That was another reason he was glad to have gotten Octavia’s call; he could finally talk to Clarke face to face and ask what was up.

Since the Conservation Center was so close he had some time before he had to walk over; unlike Clarke he didn’t have a car. He opened the bottom drawer of his desk and took out a neatly wrapped box. He had agonized over what to get Clarke for her birthday, trying to determine what was appropriate for a, a—he didn’t even know what to call the relationship they had; she was more than just his little sister’s best friend, more than a co-worker, and yet just “friend” didn’t quite sum it up either. Had someone told him seven weeks ago that he would care so much about Clarke Griffin or even that he would be buying her a birthday present, he would have laughed in their face. But now, Clarke had somehow become one of the small number of people he actually made an effort to talk to on a regular basis, a number that had previously only contained Octavia and Miller—Monty and Jasper to an extent, but they were usually the ones contacting him, not the other way around. Nonetheless he had never felt the urge to kiss any of those number, an urge that was becoming more and more frequent around Clarke.

He looked at the clock once more. “Well, being early never hurt anyone,” he said to himself and began packing up his things. He grabbed Clarke’s present and made the twenty minute walk to where she worked.

He walked through the front entrance and up to the desk, not knowing where to go or even where he was allowed to go; this place was kind of like a museum, right? Only without the exhibits? He shrugged.

A man in a security uniform looked up as Bellamy approached. “How can I help you?” he asked cheerfully.

“I’m, uh, here to pick up Clarke Griffin for a dinner.”

“Ah, yes, she said something about that when she came in this morning. I’ll just ring her and let her know you’re here,” he said, picking up the phone.

“Thanks, man,” Bellamy replied, taking a step back and waiting patiently.

After a minute, the guard put the phone back down. “She’s not picking up, but I can just walk you to her office if you want. She’s probably just caught up or has her hands full at the moment. Oh and can you just sign into the visitor’s log here? We’ve gotta keep those records straight.”

“Yeah, of course.” Bellamy told him writing down his name before proceeding through the door as the guard buzzed him through. He waited next to the office door for the guard to come out and show him where to go.

The guard spoke into a walkie-talkie, “I’m showing…”

“Bellamy Blake,” Bellamy supplied for him.

“Mr. Blake to Clarke’s, I mean, Miss Griffin’s office. Shouldn’t take too long.”

“Roger that,” a voice replied through the device.

On the short walk through the building the guard chatted amicably about what they do here at the conservation center. Bellamy felt like he was on an unofficial tour; he had already heard this and more from Clarke, but nodded along anyway.

“And here we are,” the guard said as he gestured to a door with a printed note taped to the door that said “Clarke Griffin.”

Bellamy could hear a muffled voice coming from within. “Thanks, man,” he said to the guard who then began to retreat. Bellamy knocked tentatively. A few seconds later, Clarke opened the door her cell phone to one ear, her face a mix of emotions: anger, frustration, bitterness, sadness…he could go on. When she saw it was him, she looked slightly confused, but gestured him in and held up a finger and then pointed to the phone. Though he couldn’t make out the words, the tone of the caller was far from pleasant.

“Mom! We’ve already had this conversation twice! And that’s just in this phone call! I’m not going back to med school!” _Ah, yes, the infamous Abby Griffin_ , Bellamy thought as he figured out who was on the other end of the line. “...No, I’m getting along just fine…I don’t need your money, so you can stop with the trying to use it as a bribe…Mom, I have to go, we’re going out for dinner and Bellamy just got here to drive me…Yes, I said Bellamy…no we’re not dating, not that it’s any of your goddamn business…He’s smart and kind and fun and a really great guy; I’d be lucky to have him as a boyfriend!” Bellamy smiled to himself, slightly shocked to hear her saying the same things about him that he had been thinking about her not an hour ago. Clarke looked over at him, as if only just realizing he was standing right there. A blush rose in her cheeks. “Yeah, well, I’m hanging up now. Like I said I have a dinner to get to…Thanks, Mom, because your birthday wishes have such a hearty ring to them after this conversation,” she said with a roll of her eyes, “Bye.” She said curtly and hung up.

“Sorry about that,” Clarke said to Bellamy. “I wasn’t expecting the call and then Mom had to be Mom and bring med school into the conversation instead of just sticking to the ‘Happy Birthday’ that was the original reason for the call.” She sighed and forced a smile.

Bellamy set her gift on her desk and rubbed his hand up and down her arm comfortingly. “Hey, it’s fine. I’m just wondering if _you’re_ alright.” He said soothingly, trying to catch her eye despite her looking down at her feet.

“Yeah, I’ll be alright,” she said looking up at him “Thanks, Bell,” she added with a soft smile. “Anyway, it looks like I have a present to open, so that can lift the mood!” She looked over to the present he had placed on her desk.

Bellamy chuckled. “That you do, Birthday Girl. Here,” he said picking it up and handing it to her. She slowing began pulling at the tape around the sides. “Oh my god, you’re one of _those_ people!” Bellamy teased.

“One of what people?” Clarke asked, looking up from the gift in her hands.

“One of the people who meticulously unwraps presents. Just tear into it!”

“But what if I want to reuse the paper?” She asked.

“You’re really, truly, honestly going to reuse this paper?” He returned.

“I don’t know, maybe.”

Bellamy just raised his eyebrows as a response.

“Okay, maybe not…” Clarke admitted.

Bellamy continued to give her a pointed look.

“I’m not changing my ways at your bequest,” she said giving him a challenging look.

Bellamy sighed, “Whatever way you’re opening the present, just get on with it!”

“That’s right, no more arguing with the birthday girl. It’s my day, not yours.”

“Whatever you say, Princess,” he said with a smile.

Clarke continued her process of unwrapping her present, taking extra effort to be slow and meticulous just to annoy him. Soon she unveiled a box with a handwritten note attached to it. “Cards are supposed to go on the outside, Bellamy,” she teased.

“Just read it,” he said with a smile.

She pulled the note from the box and read it aloud, “A little birdie once told me that I owed you a cup of coffee for stealing yours, a traumatizing experience for us both. Seriously? Who drinks coffee with that much sugar? Anyway, here is me repaying you…” Clarke laughed. “You find my sugared coffee traumatizing?”

Bellamy joined her in laughter and urged her to open the box. She did and pulled out a hand-painted ceramic travel mug. On the side, in painstakingly neat script, it read:

_Odi et amo, quare id faciam, fortasse requires?_   
_Nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior._   
_\- Catullus_

“Catullus 85!” Clarke exclaimed happily. “It’s one of my favorites! How did you know?”  
“I didn’t,” Bellamy said, thinking of a rough translation of the poem:

_I hate and I love. Why I do this, perhaps you ask?_   
_I do not know, but I feel it happening and I am tortured._

“I just kind of thought it fit,” he mumbled before articulating, “there’s more if you open it.”

She did and found a Starbucks gift card inside. She laughed gleefully, “Thanks, Bellamy! It’s perfect!” She rushed over and tightly wrapped her arms around him in a hug.

He returned it happily, taking in her scent with a smile. “We should probably get going, though,” he said.

“Yeah,” Clarke agreed. “Octavia is not the sort to be kept waiting, even though I’m the birthday girl and it should be on my schedule.”

“A princess is never late, everyone else is simply early.”

“Did you seriously just quote The Princess Diaries at me?” Clarke asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Maybe,” He admitted, “I did raise Octavia, she was really into that movie,” Bellamy paused. “Or if you prefer: A princess is never late, nor is she early, she arrives precisely when she means to.”

“And now you’re quoting Gandalf,” Clarke said with a laugh. “Let’s go, movie geek.”

“We prefer ‘nerd,’” he said with a laugh, following her out of her office.

* * *

 Clarke practically skipped into her favorite Italian restaurant, pulling Bellamy by the hand, the call with her mother completely forgotten.

“Where do you think you’re going, Princess?” Bellamy chuckled, pulling her back a step. She gave him a confused look. “O rented out the entire back room for your dinner so we could be as loud and rowdy as we want.”

She laughed, “Perfect!” And allowed him to lead her in the other direction, still holding her hand in his.

He opened the door for her and their entire group of friends shouted, “Happy birthday, Clarke!” as she entered. She blushed and thanked them, allowing Bellamy to direct her to the head of the table by placing his hand on the small of her back. Since he had come to pick her up, they had constantly been in slight contact like that, the hug which may have lasted longer than was usual for a simple thank you, him resting his hand on her knee in the car as he drove, them holding hands as they walked into the restaurant. Clarke began to overthink it, reminded of what her friends had been insinuating the other week, but decided it was her birthday and it made her happy, so, for at least today, she was just going to enjoy it.

Dinner proceeded with lots of talk, laughter, good food, and a bit of drinking. Clarke unwrapped her presents from all her friends which resulted in an assortment of new out-on-the-town tops courtesy of Octavia, a pair of shoes and accessories that made “the perfect outfit complete” from Raven who had clearly gone shopping with Octavia, two bottles of moonshine from Monty and Jasper who were both insisting their own variation was better than the other’s, a specially engineered easel that folds up small enough to fit in a bag from Wick, and a set of paints from Morocco that Lincoln picked up on his last excursion. She thanked them all with enthusiasm.

“Wait, you didn’t open Bellamy’s present!” Octavia exclaimed.

“I gave it to her earlier, when I picked her up,” Bellamy explained.

“Well, what was it?” Raven insisted.

“A coffee mug with a Latin inscription—one of my favorite poems by Catullus—and a Starbucks gift card,” Clarke told them. It may not sound like much when laid out like that, but if she was being honest, it was her favorite gift she got, which may or may not be related to whom the giver of the present was.

“Which means you have to stop nagging me about stealing your coffee,” Bellamy teased.

“I don’t know,” Clarke retorted with a mischievous smile, “You stole my coffee for no good reason, and it’s my birthday so you _had_ to get me a present. If you get me something you already owe me, does it really count as a present?”

“You are impossible!” Bellamy cried, but sporting a bright smile. “If you really want to be that nit-picky: gift card is me repaying you the coffee, travel mug is all birthday present, I put a lot of work into that thing!”

“Wait! You painted the inscription yourself?” Clarke said taken aback. “I didn’t know you knew calligraphy! I thought you just bought it on Etsy or something! Bellamy! Why didn’t you say something?”

“I, uh…”

“Now it’s even more special! Thank you!” She jumped out of her chair and gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. As she sat back down she caught the eye of Octavia who was looking smug. _I’ve had too many glasses of wine_ , Clarke told herself. _I always get affectionate when I’m tipsy_. But even as she said it, she knew better than to believe it. And now that she knew that Bellamy had hand-painted the mug, she was thinking even more about the poem. She tried to remember exactly what it was; she knew the sentiment was basically Catullus bemoaning the fact that he was in love with Lesbia. Her brain immediately started to overanalyze, wondering if it could mean that Bellamy was in love, and hate, with her. But that couldn’t possibly be right, right? Speaking for herself, she would admit it was true for her, but that didn’t mean it was for Bellamy. Anyway, “Odi et Amo” is one of Catullus’ most famous poems and it’s short, so it could easily fit on a mug, that was probably all it was. Ugh, she was going to drive herself insane if she continued to think about all this.

“Drop Ship?” she asked the group.

“Drop Ship,” they confirmed.

As they gathered their things to go Clarke turned to Bellamy, “Bell, do you think you could drive my car back to my place, I don’t feel like I can drive safely and I want to put all these presents in the apartment?”

“Of course,” he replied.

Raven gave Clarke a pointed look, Clarke just stuck her tongue out at her friend and said, “I was going to change into the sassy new outfit, accessories, shoes and all, but I don’t have to.”

“No, no. I’m not stopping you,” Raven said and winked, “I’m just saying you have an interesting choice of DD, especially since I know you have driven under worse circumstances.”

Clarke just rolled her eyes and walked out with Bellamy.

* * *

 Bellamy was behind the wheel of Clarke’s car, his thumb lightly dancing patterns on the top of her knee; this easy affection between them tonight was something he was definitely willing—and wanting—to get used to. She had a smile on her face as she stared out the window.

“Clarke,” he tried uneasily, his thumb stopping its motions. He cleared his throat, “Clarke,” he tried again.

She turned to him with a brilliant smile, “Huh?”

“I, uh…nevermind.”

“Bellamy,” she said in a warning tone.

“I was just wondering why you haven’t been texting me back lately,” he said in a rush. “And now I sound like a clingy teenage girl,” he muttered in addition.

“I _do_ respond to your texts,” Clarke defended, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

“Yeah…” he admitted, “But not like you used to.”

“I—” she started. Clarke heaved a sigh and let the silence hang for a minute before she resumed talking. “You know how I told you about Raven’s bet thing?”

“Mhmm,” Bellamy acknowledged, thinking back and remembering that was the last spontaneous text he had gotten from her.

“Well, Octavia was talking about us with Raven and saying that we—me and you—text each other constantly, basically like we’re already in a relationship…and of course we’re not,” she added the last bit in a rush. Bellamy nodded his head, keeping his eyes closely on the road, not to looking at her. “And it got me thinking that I do text you a lot, and, and, I don’t know. I guess it kind of freaked me out.”

“Why?” Bellamy prodded quietly.

“I don’t know…I guess because we’re _not_ in a relationship, but then again, friends text each other all the time, and we’re friends.” She paused. “Aren’t we?”

“Why would you think we’re not?”

“Because two months ago I couldn’t stand to be in the same room as you, and it was the same for you, don’t deny it.”

“Things change, they evolve; it can be like that with us, too,” he assured her.

“Yeah, it can. And today is a great day,” she placed her hand atop his that was still on her knee, turned it over and interlaced their fingers, “and I’ve decided I don’t want to go back.”

Bellamy smiled, “Me neither.”

* * *

 Clarke emerged out of her bedroom, having changed into the new outfit that her friends had gotten her: a tight sequined skirt and a flowing blush-colored top with a matching necklace, earrings, and shoes.

“What do you think?” she asked Bellamy who was waiting in the living room. She twirled around in a circle and couldn’t help but notice Bellamy looking her up and down appreciatively.

He smiled, “You look beautiful, Clarke.”

“Thanks,” she blushed.

“Are you even going to be able to walk in those?” he asked, pointing to her heels.

“Eh, I’ll suffer through the night and then claim Birthday Girl Status and make you give me a piggy back ride home,” she said with a smile. “Hmph, do you have your key to the apartment?”

“Yeah, why?” he asked.

“’Cause then I can just leave everything here and not have to worry about carrying anything; you can get me into the apartment, I don’t need my ID or wallet because I literally work at the bar and everyone knows me and the birthday girl does not pay for her own drinks,” she explained with a wink.

“Phone?” he asked.

“Nope. Anyone I would contact will be at the bar, and god knows Octavia will be taking more than enough photos to piece together the night afterwards,” she said with a laugh.

Bellamy joined in and offered his arm formally, “Shall we?”

“We shall,” she replied and they made their way to the bar to meet up with their friends.

...

Before long, Clarke was several drinks in and being a very happy and giggly and affectionate drunk. “I love you, and you, and you, and you, and you…” she told her friends, pointing around to each of the group individually. She leaned against the post next to Octavia and started petting her head, “…and especially you, O because you and I have lived together for soooo long and you still put up with me and love me.”

“I love you very, very much, Clarke,” Octavia told her pulling her down into a long hug. After being released from the hug after a short argument of “I love you more” “No, I love you more,” Clarke lost her balance and fell backward into the lap of Bellamy who was sitting next to Octavia.

Clarke laughed at herself, “Whoops!” but didn’t move from where she now sat.

“Princess, maybe you should slow down on the drinks,” Bellamy suggested gently.

Clarke stuck out her lower lip, pouting, “But I’m the birthday girl.”

“But if the birthday girl wants to make it past 11:00, she might want to slow down.”

She heaved a sigh. “Okay,” she said in a sad tone. She turned slightly in her spot on his lap so that she could put one arm behind him and gently started playing with the hair at the back of his head, “I love your curls,” she said quietly to herself. She would be the first to admit that when she was drunk, petting heads and playing with hair was one of the main ways she showed affection to the people closest to her; usually it wasn’t consciously that she did this, just a small way to be close to someone, but for the past month she had kept a close mind to keep her hands in check when it came to Bellamy’s head and hair. It was especially difficult with those soft, dark curls and tonight she had already told herself she had free reign; it wasn’t just “it’s my party, I can cry if I want to,” tonight’s philosophy was “it’s my birthday, I can do whatever the hell I want.” She guessed she would find out tomorrow whether or not that was a good choice or not.

The conversation among the group continued to flow. Clarke kept her seat in Bellamy’s lap, his arm resting around her waist, holding her in place. Any time Raven or Octavia would give her a pointed look, she would just give them a look that said, “I dare you to say something right now,” which would usually result in them looking away with a self-satisfied smirk.

Nonetheless, it wasn’t too long before she was getting antsy and abruptly stood up. “Let’s dance,” she announced. She tried tugging at Bellamy’s hand, “Bellamy?” she pleaded.

“Maybe in a bit, Princess,” he told her.

She pouted for all of ten seconds before turning around, “Octavia? Raven?”

“You know it!” Raven replied.

“Claro que sí!” Octavia exclaimed.

When neither of them succeeded in getting their significant others to go dance, the three girls huffed and struck out to the dance floor on their own. They danced solo and with each other, having a good time. At one point, Octavia broke off and brought back a round of lemon drop shots for the three of them, which they took with a shout of “To the birthday girl!” to which Clarke shouted “To me!” with a happy giggle.

Soon Clarke felt a pair of hands slip onto her hips from behind, at first she thought it was Bellamy, but when she turned her head to see, it was a guy she didn’t recognize. “Wanna dance?” he slurred.

“No,” she said shortly, turning to face him completely.

“Come on, you look like you’re here to have fun,” he said wrapping his hands around her and grabbing her butt. “Just one dance, Princess,” he added.

Hearing Bellamy’s nickname for her come out of someone else’s mouth, especially a drunken slur from a stranger sobered Clarke up a bit. Not only sobered her, but also made her irrationally angry. “I said _NO_!” she told him in a harsh voice and kneed him in the crotch.

He immediately doubled over. “Bitch!” he yelled.

“You had better hope that was for the pain and not directed at her,” Octavia said, coming to Clarke’s side.

“Because we will beat your ass to Timbuktu if you were referring to her,” Raven added.

It was then that Clarke noticed the rest of their group had risen to their feet, ready to defend her honor had she not already done it herself. She pranced over to them. “You know, the best way to prevent us from getting hit on by creeps is to dance with us,” she told them with a coy smile and held out her hand to Bellamy.

He shook his head with an amused smile and let her lead him out onto the dance floor. But before they started dancing, he paused and cupped her face in his right hand. “You alright?” he asked gently.

“Yeah,” she shook it off, “I’ve heard worse every time I work a shift, he was just a little more handsy.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Care for a dance?” she asked.

“Birthday Girl gets what Birthday Girl wants,” he said grabbing her hand and twirling her around. They danced together in much the same way they work together, seamlessly flowing from one move to the next as if rehearsed, fitting like two pieces of a puzzle. Clarke would have been more than content to continue like this for the rest of the night.

“I need something to drink,” Bellamy said, shouting in her hear as is necessary when you’re as close to the speakers as they were. “You want something?”

“I’ll come with,” Clarke replied and followed Bellamy to the bar. They waited patiently at the end of the bar, knowing exactly what it was like to be on the other side with hordes of thirsty drunks.

Harper made her way over to them before long, “Hey, Bellamy. Hey, Clarke; happy birthday!”

“Thanks, Harper!” Clarke said with a smile. “How’s it going?”

“Busy, but not overly so. I’ve had much worse nights,” she replied with a laugh. “What can I get for you guys?”

“Two whiskey sours,” Bellamy said.

“I should have known,” Harper said and began to make the drinks. When she finished, Bellamy fished out his wallet.

“On the house,” a new voice said. All three of them turned, recognizing their boss’s voice. Their boss, who had once told them that there is no such thing as “on the house” drinks, not for boyfriends, not for girlfriends, nor for family members nor friends, not even for themselves.

“Thanks, Lexa,” Clarke managed to get out.

“No problem, Clarke. Happy birthday,” Lexa said with a smile, an actual smile! “Well, I’m off again; I had just come to check on some inventory and order forms in the back. Have a great night, Clarke.” And without further ado, she turned and left.

The three bartenders exchanged looks of confused shock. “What was that?” Clarke asked.

“I don’t know,” Bellamy said, dazed.

“She totally has the hots for Clarke,” Harper said surprising them both.

“What?” they exclaimed in unison.

“Well, we all know she likes women, and when I heard she hired Clarke after seeing her once and in a position that would probably have gotten anyone else banned from her bars for life, I had my suspicions. Then right now with the free drinks and the smile…seriously, I have been working for her for three years and have never once seen her smile. Yup, she’s totally into you.”

Clarke thought about it for a second, “She’s not so bad herself. If she wasn’t my boss, I’d totally consider it.”

At the comment, Bellamy spurted out the sip of his drink that he had taken. “Are you serious?” Harper burst out laughing at Bellamy’s response

Clarke chuckled, apparently Bellamy had somehow missed the fact that she was into women as well as men. “Completely serious. You’ve got to admit she’s gorgeous.”

“I, uh—I need a minute,” he stuttered.

Clarke laughed again and settled into a nearby barstool, “Take your time.”

...

After chatting with Bellamy while finishing her drink, Clarke was starting to get antsy. She wasn’t one to sit still when she was drunk. “You want to go dance again, don’t you?” Bellamy asked her.

“Maybe,” she said drawing out the word. “Come with?”

“Nah, I’m gonna see what Miller is up to. I’ll find you in a little bit?”

“Okee-doke,” Clarke said and bounded back to where Octavia and Raven were still dancing to their hearts’ content. A song or two later Wick managed to convince Raven to take a breather and they headed to the table where others of their group were congregated.  
Clarke was in the zone, swaying her hips, running her hand through her hair, and feeling the music. She had just finished twirling in a circle, feeling joyful and free when her happy, drunk high came crashing down; the last person on the face of the planet that she would want to see had just spotted her and was headed her way. No, not her mother, it was Finn Collins.

Clarke looked around desperately for backup and vaguely remembered Octavia saying something about bathroom or resting her feet or something. Clarke tried to make her way to the table of her friends and the safety in numbers, but someone from another group stood up and blocked her path. She whipped around to find another course, but now the very person she was trying to avoid was standing before her.

“Clarke! I was hoping you’d be here,” Finn said. “And happy birthday, of course.”

She plastered on a fake smile. “Thanks, Finn,” she told him. “I really should be getting back to my friends though. Birthday girl and all, can’t have the guest of honor absent,” she tried to brush him off.

“No, wait! Can I just talk to you for one second?” he begged.

Clarke closed her eyes and took a deep breath, shaking her head. Finn Collins. At one point in her life she had thought she had a future with him. He was kind and sweet and knew how to make her smile with the smallest of things. They had dated for six months in Clarke’s last year of college and she was just getting ready to say “I love you” when Raven had shown up at his apartment for a surprise visit. That was when she had found out that Finn had a girlfriend from his hometown who he had been dating since high school, but was attending school across the country. Needless to say, Raven was not too keen on Clarke, at least until she found out that Clarke had no idea she existed and felt just as betrayed. Then all anger had turned toward Finn. Bonding over their mutual broken hearts and hatred for the guy who did the breaking, Raven and Clarke had become friends. And despite Finn’s efforts, neither had spoken to him in the last year.

“You know what, Finn? You had six months, _six months_ , of talking to me and all you ever did then was lie. Why should I believe anything now?”

“Clarke, you don’t understand. It’s you who I fell for; it’s you I love!”

Clarke couldn’t believe this guy. “You are aware Raven is literally right over there.” Clarke said pointing in the direction of her friends.

Finn at least had the decency to look startled. “She, but—”

“Don’t even try, Finn. It isn’t going to happen. It’s over. Raven’s moved on. I’ve moved on. You need to move on, too, preferably somewhere far, far away.”

“Hey, Princess. Everything alright here?” Clarke heard Bellamy say as he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. Clarke was immediately brought back to the time that Bellamy had saved her from that creep—Craig? Carter? Something like that—and knew exactly what he was doing. She was ever so grateful and settled comfortably back into his chest and protective arms.

“Yup, everything is fine and dandy. Just having a quality conversation with my ex, who is coincidentally Raven’s ex; we even have the same break up date with him; funny how life works,” Clarke said her voice full of menace and sarcasm.

“Finn Collins I presume,” Bellamy said. “I’ve heard many things, none of them good.” He held out his hand like it was a normal introduction. “Bellamy Blake.”

“Wait, Bellamy? Bellamy _Blake_?” Finn exclaimed, disregarding the outstretched hand. “As in Octavia’s brother you can’t stand? You’re dating _him_?” He addressed Clarke.

“After spending some time with him, I realized he wasn’t so bad after all,” she joked.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Bellamy returned.

Clarke turned her head and rose on her tippy-toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. What she was not expecting was for him to be leaning down to kiss her on the cheek as well; their lips met halfway. Clarke was startled at first, her eyes widening slightly; she felt him freeze as well. They were supposed to be a couple and both being freaked out by a small kiss was not going to sell it. As if reading her mind, Bellamy deepened the kiss slightly, enough to make it a true kiss, and not some accidental lip bumping, and definitely enough to make Clarke’s toes curl and electricity shoot through her spine.

Much too soon in her opinion, Bellamy pulled away. He looked toward Finn, whom Clarke had completely forgotten in those few seconds, causing her to look at him as well. All he did was scoff, turn on his heel, and walk out of the bar.

When she turned back toward Bellamy, his hands quickly releasing her waist as if burned, she realized what had just happened. She had just kissed Bellamy! The guy who, well, the guy she would admit that she had wanted to kiss, but still… She felt her cheeks flush brightly with more than just the alcohol. They had just gotten to a place where they were friends, and looking back several months, it would seem impossible to be where they are. And even though she might feel the urge to grab the back of his neck and kiss him properly right now, she couldn’t do that; she wouldn’t. “I, uh…” she started.

“Umm, yeah,” Bellamy said his hand reaching up to run through his hair. “…I, uh, should probably get going…you know, early class tomorrow, and, um, yeah…”

“Uh-huh…yeah, um, thanks for coming out and the present and all that jazz,” Clarke said awkwardly, fiddling with the hair tie on her wrist. “I’ll, uh, talk to you later?”

“Yup! And one last time happy birthday,” Bellamy said inelegantly.

“Thanks,” Clarke replied. And with that they were both practically sprinting in opposite directions, feeling supremely awkward and not knowing how to act around each other at the moment.

...

When Clarke made it home later that night, or rather morning, she was much more drunk than she had anticipated getting earlier in the night. With each shot, she hoped that it could calm her mind and drown her racing thoughts about the kiss, but none of it helped her succeed in that mission. She saw Bellamy’s sleeping form on the couch and tried her best to tip-toe to her room. Once there she lay on her back, wide awake, mind dizzy and racing, unable to sleep for a long while.

* * *

 

The whole table watched the exchange with Finn and Bellamy’s intervention. When the three people who they had been intently watching for the past few minutes dispersed in three separate directions, one after the other, Jasper turned to Octavia, “And no, Octavia, that does not count for you winning the bet.”

“Makes my prospects look a lot brighter though,” Raven said with a smile.

* * *

 

**[Backtracking here a little bit to get Bellamy’s perspective because I, at least, want to know what was going through his head.]**

They were in the bar and Clarke was feeling very loving, and expressing it freely. Bellamy smiled to himself as he watched her pet Octavia’s head before getting pulled into a sloppy hug. The next thing he knew she was falling into his lap. “Whoops!” she laughed, but made no move to vacate it.

“Princess, maybe you should slow down on the drinks,” he advised his a gentle laugh.

She stuck out her lower lip, making puppy eyes at him, “But I’m the birthday girl.”

He was a sucker for the puppy eyes; Octavia had used them to manipulate him his whole life, but he tried one last line of reasoning, “But if the birthday girl wants to make it past 11:00, she might want to slow down.”

He could see her weighing her options. “Okay,” she finally professed. She then settled herself further into his lap and wrapped her arm his shoulders; he soon felt her hand running through the hair at the base of his neck and it was all he could do not to tilt his head back and moan in pleasure; he was a sucker for this kind of affection. “I love your curls,” he could have sworn he heard her say, but it was so quiet he second guessed himself. He smiled again thinking about what it would be like to get his hands in her hair.

Bellamy followed the conversation the best he could, distracted by Clarke relentlessly playing with his hair. She started to squirm a little bit and suddenly stood up, announcing, “Let’s dance!” She grabbed his hand that had been previously resting on her thigh and tugged, “Bellamy?”

Sure he loved dancing, and he would love to dance with Clarke, especially since it would prevent her from dancing with anyone else, but he needed to cool his thoughts a little bit first. “Maybe in a bit, Princess,” he told her.

Clearly not too put off, she turned to the two people she knew would follow her onto the dance floor without a second thought. “Octavia? Raven?”

As predicted, they were up and out of their seats in seconds. All the guys decided to hang back a bit and let the girls do their thing, electing for a little quiet conversation over their beers. They talked about this and that, occasionally looking over to the girls on the floor. The next time he looked up and saw a guy sliding his hands onto Clarke’s hips causing him to rise to his feet ready to tear the guy apart.

“What are you—?” he heard Lincoln ask. Then turning to follow his gaze, the large man also rose to his feet. The rest of the table followed suit, spying the guy grabbing Clarke’s ass and the resulting look on her face.

But before any of them could make a step to help, they heard Clarke from clear across the bar, “I said NO!” And watched as she kneed him where the sun don’t shine. They winced in sympathy, but nodded in satisfaction as he curled into a protective ball.

“Good for you, Princess,” Bellamy said quietly to himself. Happy that not only did Clarke stand up for herself, not that he had ever doubt her; but also, his heart beat happily as he thought about how she had wanted to dance with him earlier, but shot down the first guy who tried and in such a definitive manner.

It was then that Clarke came bounding over to the table, a smile upon her face as if she didn’t just knee some guy in the balls. “You know, the best way to prevent us from getting hit on by creeps is to dance with us.” She held out her hand to him and Bellamy took it with a shake of his head and an amused smile, allowing her to drag him out to the dance floor; he wasn’t going to turn her down twice.

Right before they entered the dance floor, Bellamy pulled her to a stop, turning her to face him. He brought his hand up to her cheek, tilting her face to look him in the eye, “You alright?” he asked, needing definitive proof that she was unharmed.

She shrugged her shoulders like it was not big deal that she had just been assaulted. “Yeah. I’ve heard worse every time I work a shift, he was just a little more handsy.” Bellamy internally cursed himself for not catching the offensive comments when they worked a shift together and vowed that he would put a hard end to it, next time he heard something. Still unfazed, she asked, “Care to dance?”

He smiled at her happy-go-lucky attitude, nothing was getting to her tonight, “Birthday Girl gets what Birthday Girl wants,” he told her as he took hold of her hand and twirled her onto the dance floor. He loved the way their bodies moved together in rhythm, seeming to know exactly what the other was going to do and responding to it perfectly. After a while he decided he wanted another drink and invited Clarke to come get one with him.

They were standing at the bar, having just received their whiskey sours when Bellamy heard a distinctive voice say, “On the house.” The three of them turned toward Lexa, barely preventing their jaws from dropping.

Clarke was the first to regain her ability to speak and thanked Lexa.

She responded with, “No problem, Clarke. Happy birthday.” And then she did the unthinkable. She smiled. Bellamy had never seen his boss legitimately smile before. To say he was taken aback was an understatement. “Well, I’m off again; I had just come to check on some inventory and order forms in the back. Have a great night, Clarke.”

“What was that?” Clarke asked him and Harper, dazed.

“I don’t know,” he replied honestly.

Harper surprised them both, saying “She totally has the hots for Clarke.”

“What?” Bellamy cried at the same time as Clarke, his mind reeling.

As Harper explained her reasoning, Bellamy thought back to the conversation and realized that Lexa had only ever addressed or even really looked at Clarke. He was brought back to the present when Clarke said, “She’s not so bad herself. If she wasn’t my boss, I’d totally consider it.”

“Are you serious?” Bellamy exclaimed, involuntarily spitting out the sip he had just taken. That was far from the response he had been expecting from Clarke.

“Completely serious. You’ve got to admit she’s gorgeous.”

No, it wasn’t the fact that she was into girls that took him aback; he was totally fine with that, his best friend was gay for crying out loud. It was just that he had never pictured Clarke on that same vein, let alone with stick up her ass Lexa. “I, uh—I need a minute,” he managed to get out, trying to sort the (inappropriate) mental images that were filling his mind; he was a guy after all.

Clarke laughed at him and told him to take his time. She settled into the nearest bar stool and the two of them sat and chatted for a while. However, after finishing her drink she started to squirm just as she had earlier in the night. “You want to go dance again, don’t you?”

“Maybe,” she said drawing out the word. “Come with?” she asked, clearly having enjoyed their dancing as much as he did. Bellamy thought about it, but saw his friend sitting on his own at a table. “Nah, I’m gonna see what Miller is up to. I’ll find you in a little bit?” Checking on Miller was all well and good, but Clarke was definitely his main priority tonight, especially after the conversation they had had in the car and the closeness they had been exhibiting.

As Clarke bounded back to the dance floor, Bellamy made his way to the table where Miller sat. Miller gave him a knowing look as he sat down, “How’s it going?”

“Why do I feel like that was more than just a general ‘what’s up?’” Bellamy asked.

“You and Clarke. Dude, I’m not blind; you two have been on each other all night, not to mention the vibes you guys have been tossing around for the past month. Just ask her out already.”

“I can’t do that. We just started getting along really well and we’re friends and I don’t want to mess anything up. Not to mention we’re on completely different pages.”

“Ah, yes, her sitting on your lap and playing with your hair definitely shouts ‘platonic friendship.’”

“She just gets affectionate when she’s been drinking,” Bellamy defended.

Miller laughed at him, “A, when was the last time she sat in my lap or Monty’s or Jasper’s or any other guy, drunk or not? And B, what excuse do you have for the hand holding I’ve seen on more than one occasion? Not to mention you two were basically playing footsie at dinner at one point.”

“I, uh…”

“Just pluck up the courage and ask her. You were in the army, goddammit, Blake! You faced combat in foreign countries and asking out a girl who you’d get a guarantee ‘yes’ out of has you quaking in your boots?”

Bellamy opened his mouth, about to respond when Raven and Wick slid into the booth, soon followed by Jasper, and Maya. “What we talking about?” Raven asked.

“Nothing,” Bellamy responded quickly before Miller could say anything contrary.

Raven shrugged it off and began a rant about the DJ and his choice of music, which was good except that every fifth song was some horrible remix obviously done by an amateur, probably the DJ himself. Before long, Octavia joined the table as well, electing to use Lincoln as a seat instead of an actual chair. Bellamy gave her a pointed look to which she responded by snuggling closer to her boyfriend and sticking her tongue out at him. He had to admit that Lincoln wasn’t a bad guy and that he genuinely cared for Octavia. However, that still didn’t mean that Bellamy wanted to see his baby sister hanging all over some guy.

“Oh no,” Raven said, breaking Bellamy out of his thoughts.

“What?” Octavia asked, concern over the worried tone of her friend’s voice.

“Finn,” was all Raven responded. The entire group turned to see the floppy haired jackass who had broken both Clarke and Raven’s hearts; the air turned immediately sour. Bellamy got to his feet as soon as he saw Finn heading in Clarke’s direction; there was no way he was letting her face this jerk alone.

As he approached, a plan formed in his mind: the best way to get rid of a lying piece of shit was to convince him that Clarke had moved on and was far happier without him in her life. He heard Clarke talking, frustration and venom lacing her normally kind voice, “Don’t even try, Finn. It isn’t going to happen. It’s over. Raven’s moved on. I’ve moved on. You need to move on, too, preferably somewhere far, far away.”

 _Perfect timing_ , he thought to himself. Coming from behind, he slid his hands around Clarke’s waist, hoping she would catch on to his plan. “Hey, Princess. Everything alright here?”

“Yup,” she responded, leaning into his body just as he trusted she would; the back of his mind registered how much he liked the feeling of her in his arms and against his body, how they fit perfectly together. “Everything is fine and dandy. Just having a quality conversation with my ex, who is coincidentally Raven’s ex; we even have the same break up date with him; funny how life works.” Bellamy could literally feel her body shaking with anger, though she managed to keep the worst of it out of her voice.

Bellamy had heard the whole story from Octavia shortly after the whole Finn debacle happened. He had called her to complain to her for cancelling their weekend plans, but she had gone on a rant about a “fucking douchebag named Finn who doesn’t deserve to see the light of day” and told him that there was no way in hell she was leaving Clarke alone for so much as an hour. Even when he had not been Clarke’s biggest fan, he had been pissed that a guy could be such an asshole to anyone, let alone two girls. But now that he cared so much about Clarke, and Raven too, he wanted nothing more than to knock this guy out. Trying his best to keep only the right amount of malice in his voice, “Finn Collins I presume. I’ve heard many things, none of them good.” He held out his hand like this was a casual meeting. Part of him was begging Finn to take it so he could break the jackass’s hand. “Bellamy Blake,” he introduced himself.

“Wait, Bellamy? Bellamy _Blake_? As in Octavia’s brother you can’t stand? You’re dating _him_?” He was now completely ignoring Bellamy.

“After spending some time with him, I realized he wasn’t so bad after all,” Clarke told him, a genuine smile could be heard in her voice.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Bellamy’s own smile evident in his tone.

He leaned down to kiss her cheek to show the affection of a loving boyfriend, plus it was the closest he would get to actually kissing her. At least, that was what he thought the split second before he felt her lips on his. He froze for a half-second comprehending that he was actually kissing Clarke before he deepened it. He made sure to keep it chaste, but his mind and body were begging him to turn her around, pull her in closer, and kiss her like he had been wanting to ever since she had written that teasing poem in the book she’d given him. Not fully trusting himself _not_ to do this, he pulled back.

He turned to look to Finn to see if his original aim at succeeded only to have him sneer and walk away without another word. Clarke now turned to face him completely, he dropped his hands quickly, telling himself the charade was over and he couldn’t give in to the urges his mind was still playing in the background. “I, uh…” she started to say something and then stopped.

“Umm, yeah,” Bellamy said, feeling awkward and nervous. Kissing Clarke had not been part of his plan, and like he had told Miller he didn’t want to ruin the friendship the two of them had formed over the past months. “…I, uh, should probably get going…you know, early class tomorrow, and, um, yeah…” Okay, so the class he was TA-ing was at noon and he’d definitely gone to it with only three hours of sleep before, but he felt the need to get out of this situation as fast as he could.

“Uh-huh…yeah, um, thanks for coming out and the present and all that jazz,” Clarke stuttered, as she fiddled with the hair tie on her wrist, a nervous habit of hers he had noticed before. “I’ll, uh, talk to you later?” she asked both anxiously and hopefully.

“Yup! And one last time happy birthday,” he responded.

“Thanks,” she told him before they both quickly made their way in opposite directions.

Bellamy let himself into Octavia and Clarke’s apartment and settled onto the couch. He lay awake staring at the ceiling for a while, lingering on the feeling of Clarke’s lips on his. He eventually fell asleep, but was woken up some time later to someone entering the apartment. Despite her best efforts, Clarke was not the quietest drunk while she found her way to her bedroom. He sighed. He would find some way to get them back to where they were at the very least. He couldn’t lose what they had, because Clarke as a friend was better than no Clarke at all.

* * *

 The next morning Clarke woke up to a pounding head. She groaned and rolled out of bed, padding her way into the kitchen. Birthdays are all well and good, but she should have thought about the consequences of the following day before she took that last shot. “I’m never drinking again,” she muttered to herself. Everyone always says that, but then the next weekend swings around and what are they doing? Drinking.  
When she reached the coffee pot, she saw a note sticking out from underneath.

_Dear Princess,_   
_1) Just hit start on the coffee maker, everything is already to go_   
_2) An Orlando’s Breakfast Pizza is being delivered to your apartment at 11:00_   
_3) Have a great day off. Enjoy it because some of us actually have to work this morning_

_~ Bellamy_

_PS I’m adding another favor to your list for that save with Finn last night._   
_I believe that makes two_

Clarke smiled. Hit start on coffee maker and checked the time: 10:47. Today was off to a great start. She had coffee and the best hangover pizza on the way and apparently the awkwardness from the night before was being forgotten. Well, at least she hoped her and Bellamy could go back to the bantering selves in person as well as it seemed they were from the note. Then again, if her brain couldn’t stop thinking about how his lips felt on hers in that brief moment, just from looking at a note written by him, she didn’t know what she was going to do when she next came face to face with Bellamy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: Catullus 85 is one of the best known poems written by Catullus, it has been translated many times and in many different ways with different implications. After I had Clarke use a Catullus poem in Bellamy’s gift, I knew I needed to have Bellamy give a gift with one to Clarke. Browsing through my book of Catullus poems, I remembered this one and thought it was perfect for their relationship.


	11. Chapter 11

Octavia walked into her apartment after work to find Clarke laying on the couch and binge watching Firefly. “Again?” she asked teasingly.

“If you say that I’ve seen this show too many times, I swear by my pretty floral bonnet I will end you.”

Octavia laughed. “Not at all. Hungry?” she asked.

“Starved.” Clarke replied and caught the burrito Octavia tossed to her. Octavia set the rest of the food on the coffee table in front of Clarke and went to go change out of work clothes. “Why are there three burritos?” she heard Clarke call out suspiciously.

“Raven should be here any minute,” Octavia called back.

“Oh, okay,” still not entirely convinced.

Before Clarke could finish her sentence, the front door opened. “Honey, I’m home!” Raven called into the apartment.

“Not your _home_ anymore,” Octavia told her reentering the living room.

“Nope. My home now,” Clarke teased.

Raven huffed and flopped herself into the lounge chair, flinging her legs over one armrest and using the other as back support. She began to unwrap the burrito she grabbed on her way to the chair. “So, Clarke, final verdict on the birthday bash: complete success or raging failure?”

“Are those my only two options?” Clarke asked with a laugh as Octavia settled onto the couch opposite to Clarke, facing both girls.

“Yup,” Raven said with a smile.

“Then, complete success,” Clarke decided.

“Complete, as in there is not one element you would have liked to change?” Raven pressed.

“Ummm…I could have done without running into Finn, but other than that I don’t think so…” Clarke’s tone had never lost its suspicious edge.

“Hmmm, okay. I see, I see,” Raven mused.

Octavia was trying to hold back her laughter. She and Raven had talked earlier that morning about ganging up on Clarke about last night’s events, well one specific significant event, and she was definitely enjoying watching Raven’s methods.

Raven pressed on, “So, what I’m getting is that if you just erase Finn from the picture, because fuck Finn, then _everything_ else would be perfect, every last detail?”

“Yeea-aaah…” Clarke drew out the word, clearly having no idea what Raven was getting at.

“So, that kiss with Bellamy, you wouldn’t change that?” Raven asked, striking gold.

Clarke froze.

“That’s right, we all saw that. Can’t get it by us.” Raven sounded so proud of herself.

Clarke looked to Octavia for support. “Hey, I’m on her side,” Octavia explained. “You can’t just make out with my brother in the middle of the bar while we’re all watching to make sure Finn isn’t more than the usual dickhead he is, and not talk about it.”

“We did not make out!” Clarke yelled.

“So, you admit you guys kissed?” Octavia questioned.

“You literally just said you all saw it,” Clarke deadpanned.

“Yeah, but you admitting it is one step closer to admitting how you felt about it.”

Clarke heaved a sigh. “Bellamy and I are friends; he was just helping me out of an awkward situation.”

“‘Friends?’ Just friends?” Raven asked, her tone teasing.

Octavia could see that Clarke was struggling with herself, not just what to tell the two of them, but also what she was comfortable enough to admit to herself. Octavia gently prodded Clarke with her foot causing her to look up and meet Octavia’s eyes, who gave her an encouraging smile. Clarke returned the smile and heaved another large sigh, “Okay…so, well…umm…I think, I think I might like him, like, like him more than a friend. Which is crazy and insane because we couldn’t even stand to be in the same room two months ago, but every time I see him, I start to get a little fluttery. And I can’t stop thinking about that kiss—that damn kiss! And I boy do I ever want to kiss him again, but I can’t. I can’t ruin the friendship that we have because we’ve only just gotten here. And it’s so fragile, so tentative. And I feel like I already have ruined it because he couldn’t even look at me after the kiss. And then he ran off, making up an excuse about an early class, when I know he doesn’t have one till noon. Not that I’m any better, sprinting off and downing tequila shots because maybe if I drank enough I would forget that the kiss even happened and then I wouldn’t have to worry about me shoving him against a wall and kissing him how I really want to and sufficiently ruining any remnants of friendship that might be lingering. And now I’m rambling, and I need to stop. And, and…yeah.” Clarke blurted at a rapid speed. Finishing by looking down at her hands and refusing to make eye contact with either of her friends.

Raven and Octavia shared a shocked look. While they had wanted to get Clarke to acknowledge the kiss, they were definitely not expecting the outburst. Octavia opened her mouth to say something, but then Clarke was talking at again at an equally fast pace, “And then even if, by the farthest twist of fate, he wanted me as much as I want him, he’s _Bellamy_. He’s your brother which could put you in a really awkward position, and I’d never in a thousand years want to do that to you, O. And then there’s the fact I can’t remember the last time that he was actually in a solid relationship, not just hooking up, and I don’t know that I could do that. Yes, I’ve had my share of one night stands, but never within the friend group. But that’s not even it, I don’t think I would _want_ to just have a one night stand because, because, well…yeah.”

Octavia could see the raw emotion on Clarke’s face as she looked at her hands and played with the hair tie on her wrist. Octavia crawled across the couch and put her hands over Clarke’s as Raven moved to the armrest of the couch to hug her from behind. “Clarke. Clarke, honey, look at me,” Octavia said gently.

Clarke looked up, her eyes welling with tears. She brushed them away quickly with the back of her hand. Her tone changing to the strong-willed tone it usually had, with an added dose of anger or frustration, she said, “So, yeah, I actually really like him, it’s not going to happen. End of story.” She got up, forcing herself away from her friends and began picking up what little mess there was on the table to pick up and walked into the kitchen.

When Clarke left the room, Raven looked at Octavia. “Fuck yeah it’s gonna happen,” she said. “Assuming you’re good with it,” she added quickly.

“Definitely. If it’s the last thing we do, Clarke and Bell are going to get together. They deserve to be happy.”

“Seriously,” Raven agreed. “I don’t think Clarke has gone on more than two dates with the same guy since Finn and that was almost two years ago.”

“And Bell may seem like a player, but it’s just because he can’t stand the idea of letting someone close enough to hurt him if she leaves. But you’ve seen how he is with Clarke; it’s not like anything that’s come before.”

Clarke re-entered the living room; the two girls immediately ceased their talking. “Why do I feel like I just walked in on the kid with his hand in the cookie jar?” she asked them.

“Because you want to bake us cookies?” Octavia suggested.

“Oh, yes,” Clarke replied sarcastically. “That is exactly what I was thinking.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m going to go paint for a while. Don’t get into too much trouble.” Clarke continued on her path to her bedroom, closing the door when she got there.

“So, Operation…” Octavia searched for what she wanted to call her and Raven’s newly found mission, “…Bellarke?”

“Bellarke?” Raven questioned, incredulously.

“Bellamy plus Clarke equals Bellarke,” Octavia explained as if it was obvious.

“Whatever,” Raven dismissed. “I’m in.”

* * *

 Sunday morning Clarke was snuggled in bed after a late night of finishing the painting she had started on Friday. She was woken by someone jumping on her bed and collapsing on top of her.

“Nooo,” she groaned pulling the covers over her head.

“Rise and shine!” Octavia said cheerfully. “You’re coming to lunch with me and Bell.”

Clarke peeked out from under the covers and gave her friend a deadpan look.

“It has nothing to do with what you told me and Raven the other day; I just want to have lunch with my two favorite people before I go on vacation for a week.”

“Yeah, because I believe that,” Clarke said sarcastically.

“Please, even if I do have additional motives, what I said before wasn’t a lie. Plus, you want to see where things are for the two of you, right? And who’s the perfect objective, third-party, which no personal interest in the matter? Me! Please, please, please, please, please, please, please!” Octavia begged, bringing on the force of the puppy dog eyes.

“You’re not going to leave my bed until I say, ‘yes,’ are you?”

“Not a chance,” Octavia replied with a smile.

Clarke groaned again, “Fine! But if things are completely awkward, I’m blaming you!”

“Success!” Octavia shouted, accompanying her exclamation with a fist pump and getting off Clarke’s bed. “Dress cute!” she added in farewell as she sauntered out of the room.

“I hate you!” Clarke called after Octavia and rolled out of bed. “Fuck, I really do have to dress cute,” she muttered to herself, acknowledging that she did indeed want to look nice for her first post-kiss interaction with Bellamy. She walked over to her closet and selected a floral sundress neckline that accentuated her breasts without putting them on display and sported a perfectly gathered waist before flowing down to just above her knee. She added a light line of eyeliner and some mascara as well as a quick shine of lip gloss before braiding only a small section of her hair back, so that some still framed her face. She walked out into the living room and gave a twirl for Octavia. “Good?” she asked.

“Perfect,” Octavia replied, handing her a cup of coffee, which Clarke took gratefully before settling down onto the couch to wait for Bellamy.

Twenty minutes later, there was a brief knock on the door before it opened. “Wow, you do know how to knock!” Clarke called out teasingly.

“How did you even know it’s me?” Bellamy answered from the entryway.

“Because you just told me,” she replied, happy that things didn’t seem off between them. Maybe they _could_ just put the whole kiss-thing behind them. At least that’s what she thought until Bellamy came into the living room; upon seeing him in simply jeans and a t-shirt, albeit a well-fitted t-shirt, Clarke was immediately brought back to the moment his lips were on hers and how much she wanted to repeat and go beyond that feeling again. She hid her reaction by taking another sip of coffee.

“Clarke is joining us for lunch,” Octavia informed her brother. “I want a meal with my two favorite people before I go off on vacation.”

“Whatever you say, O,” Bellamy answered with the doting smile of a brother who can never say ‘no’ to his little sister.

“If you tell me where we’re going, I can drive us,” Clarke volunteered.

“Perfect! There’s this new place on Ninth Street I’ve been wanting to try,” Octavia jumped in.

“Okee-doke, let’s get this show on the road!” Clarke said, leading the way out of the apartment, careful to not make eye contact with Bellamy, but also trying not to make it super awkward. 

* * *

 

Bellamy was sitting next to Clarke at a small bistro that Octavia had picked out. He had no idea how Clarke could look so effortlessly beautiful, but she did, especially when she gave him a small smile over the cup of coffee she was sipping as they waited for their food. Looking at her, he couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss they shared. He tried the shake the memory out of his head and focus on Octavia talking about the trip she was taking with Lincoln, a trip he didn’t entirely approve of, but one that he’d given up hope of stopping.

“Lincoln said that he has to climb some mountain or something and camp up there to get pictures of the sunrise. He told me that I could stay at the hotel while he went up, but fuck that shit, I want to climb a mountain and watch a sunrise with my boyfriend. What could be more romantic than that?”

“Big brother over here,” Bellamy reminded. “Don’t really want to hear your planned details of a ‘romantic getaway’ with my little sister and her boyfriend of one month.”

“No, they’ve been going out for two,” Clarke corrected. Immediate her eyes got large and she clapped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry, O,” she mumbled.

“You hid him from me for a month?” Bellamy asked outraged.

“Thanks, Clarke,” Octavia said sarcastically. “I didn’t _hide_ him from you; I was just waiting to see how things went between us first. And for the exact reason of the reaction I’m getting right now.”

“Goddammit, Octavia, I just want what’s best for you!”

“But you don’t always know what’s best for me. I’m twenty three years old, I’m an adult, I don’t need my older brother to make my decisions for me.” Octavia’s tone was starting to get hard.

Bellamy felt someone squeeze his hand which had balled into a fist under the table. He looked down at it and then back to the face of the owner; Clarke met his eye and took a deep breath, telling him to calm down without saying a word. He mirrored her action and immediately felt calmer. When he loosened his fist, she started to take her hand back, but he held it in place and laced their fingers together. If he wasn’t mistaken, her breath hitched a little bit, but she didn’t try to take her hand back again.

“I’m sorry, O,” Bellamy said sincerely. “Big brother mode doesn’t have an off switch and I still see that little girl with the big green eyes asking me to make sure the monsters don’t get her. And no matter how old you get the monsters are still out there, they’re just taking on different forms now.”  
Octavia looked from him to Clarke, and incredulous expression on her face, not believing the turn-around in his demeanor. “It’s okay, Bell,” she told him, all hardness of her voice now erased. “I’m old enough to fight the monsters on my own, but if I need help, I’ll give you a call.

“And now that we’ve got that all worked out, food’s here,” Clarke said, pulling her hand from Bellamy’s to indicate to their waitress who was approaching with their meals.

“You guys get started, I’m gonna make a call,” Octavia said, standing and pulling out her phone. Clarke opened her mouth to say something to Octavia, but closed it without utter a word. Octavia gave her a quick smile and walked away.

There was a brief silence before Bellamy barked with a half-laugh, “Déjà vu, huh, Princess?”

“What?” she asked, confused.

“Last time the three of us went out to lunch on a Sunday, Octavia left us alone while she was on the phone.”  
Clarke let out a small laugh, “If I remember correctly, that meal ended with me storming out of the restaurant because you were being an ass.”

“Yeah, let’s not repeat that part of the meal,” he replied.

“Agreed.” The silence resumed, Bellamy could have sworn that before the kiss, the silence between them wasn’t this awkward, now he just didn’t know what to say.

“How’s the thesis coming?” Clarke asked.

 _Déjà vu with conversation and everything, this doesn’t bode well_. “Same old, same old. Translation and analysis.”

“That’s good.” Silence resumed. After another awkward minute, Clarke broke the silence again, “This is ridiculous! What happened? Okay, I know, what happened, but we’re putting it behind us, right? We’re just going back to being friends like before?”

Bellamy tried not to let the disappointment show on his face. But was that not what he had just been thinking earlier? That they needed to just get back to where they were, no matter how much he wanted more than that. “Yeah, of course,” he answered. For a split second he thought he saw her face drop, but it was so quick he must have just been projecting.

“Good. So any gossip I should know about?”

“Now, I’m your gossip source?” he questioned.

“I don’t know! You’re always telling me about the inner workings of the Classics office, I want to know if Echo has finally given up her crush.”

Bellamy laughed. “Nope, she’s still among my doting fans.”

“Poor girl, someone needs to help her out; clearly she doesn’t know how annoying you are.”

“I am not! At school I am a well-respected graduate student who people aspire to be like.”

“Key phrase: at school.” Clarke said with a laugh.

Bellamy huffed. Soon enough they were back into their ways of verbal sparring and constant teasing. Bellamy smiled glad that he had this Clarke back in his life. The awkward limbo of not knowing where she stood for the past two days had been agonizing. True he would have preferred a step further rather than the retreat that this felt like, but it was better to be safe and keep a hold of what he had already and not risk losing everything.

Octavia came back from her phone call before too long and easily joined the conversation which soon evolved into talk about the group and who was going to bring whom to Raven’s wedding, mostly whom Monty was going to take; the conversation carefully avoided with whom Clarke and Bellamy would go.

* * *

Tuesday night, Bellamy was just about to choose what movie to watch when he heard his phone buzz.

Princess  
I had forgotten what it’s like to  
live alone. It’s too quiet  
10:11 pm

Need me to come over and blast  
Octavia’s music, sing horribly, and  
pretend to be her?  
10:15 pm

Would you please? I could  
really go for some entertainment  
10:15 pm

I just need to find my camera  
10:15 pm

Why do you need your camera?  
10:17 pm

To record the event  
10:17 pm

…so that I can replay it when you’re  
not here and it would still sound like  
someone was  
10:17 pm

Yup. That’s what I’m going with  
10:17 pm

Why do I not believe your reasoning?  
10:18 pm

I don’t know why you wouldn’t.  
I’m a trustworthy person  
10:18 pm

Be that as it may, I still don’t believe you.  
10:20 pm

Seriously though, Bell, it’s too  
quiet here  
10:20 pm

And I watched Ghost Adventures, and  
now I’m freaking out  
10:21 pm

Why did you watch Ghost Adventures?  
You always get scared.  
10:21 pm

I don’t know. It was on TV and they  
were going to this old artsy looking  
building…and I wanted to see inside  
10:21 pm

Oh god! There’s shadows moving under  
the door! Someone’s outside the apartment.  
10:22 pm

Clarke, you live in an apartment building.  
You have neighbors. They walk to their  
apartments.  
10:22 pm

  
I know. I know. You were right. It was  
just the guy across the hall.  
10:24 pm

A cat just knocked over a garbage can in  
the alley and I jumped a mile high. I  
can’t do this  
10:26 pm

Princess, do you need me to come  
over and protect you from the  
scary ghosts?  
10:26 pm

No. I’m a big girl, I can handle it.  
10:26 pm

Okay, I swear someone is in the kitchen!  
10:27 pm

Offer still stands.  
10:27 pm

…yes please…  
10:28 pm

No, wait, I’ll come to you. You’ll take too  
long getting a cab or catching the bus and  
I’ll already be dead.  
10:28 pm

Assuming that’s okay!  
10:28 pm

That’s perfectly fine, Princess.  
Let me know when you get here  
and I’ll let you in.  
10:29 pm

On my way!  
10:30 pm

Bellamy looked up from his phone, only just realizing to what he had agreed. Just because he had agreed to move past the kiss, didn’t mean that he forgot it or that his feelings had disappeared. And the fixation of this thoughts for the past few days was coming to his apartment, at night; it’s not like this scenario had played itself in his head before…But it would definitely have a different ending in person, than it did in his mind.

Fifteen minutes later he was letting Clarke into his apartment. “Oh my god, thank you, Bell,” she told him as opened the door. “I couldn’t stand to be in the apartment by myself; it was so quiet and you know how my imagination gets after scary movies and such.”

“I know,” Bellamy chuckled remembering how jumpy she got when they had a scary movie night. Clarke had only gotten home for the last bit of a movie, but

Octavia complained for the rest of the week that Clarke was just a step away from crawling in bed with her at night.

Clarke stuck her tongue out at him. “What are the chances I can convince you to watch a happy-go-lucky movie before bed tonight?”

“One hundred percent,” Bellamy said with a smile. “Netflix is up on my laptop, the HDMI cord is already set up, pick something out, and I’ll make some popcorn.”

When he returned to his living room, his TV screen was ready to play the opening scenes of Serenity. “I hate to break it to you, but Serenity is not happy-go-lucky.”

“I know, but it makes me smile and I just finished re-watching the show a few days ago.”

“So, you’re just usurping movie night for your own endgame? Hmm…Why do I feel like I was in trouble for trying to do that not too long ago?”

“But it’s Serenity, you can’t say no to Firefly. What kind of browncoat are you?”

“Fine. You caught me, I can’t say no. I just have to give you a hard time,” Bellamy smiled, placing the popcorn on the table. “Want something to drink?”

“Beer? Whatever you’ve got is fine,” Clarke replied.

Bellamy went to the fridge and got out two beers and returned to settle on the couch. Right before they were about to hit play Clarke suddenly muttered, “Shit! PJs!”  
Bellamy looked at her questioningly.

“In my rush to get out of my ghost infested apartment, I forgot to grab pajamas,” she explained.

“Just borrow something of mine,” Bellamy offered. “First door on your right,” he said indicating toward the hallway. “I trust you won’t be a snoop.”

“Really?” Clarke said with a coy smile, “You’re telling me to go into your bedroom for the first time alone, and expect me not to snoop? If the idea wasn’t already in my head, you would have just placed it there.”

When Clarke took her time changing, Bellamy started wondering if she really was snooping and what she had gotten into. Right when he was about to go check it out, she came back into the living room wearing one of his shirts that said “Army” across it. It hung to about mid-thigh, and Bellamy had to stop his jaw from dropping, because as good as Clarke looked when she got all dolled up to go out or even when she was dressed for a casual day at home, this was by far his favorite look on her.

“What?” Clarke asked, unaware of the effect she was having on him.

“Nothing,” he replied, tearing his eyes off her.

She shrugged as she relaxed onto the couch next to him, her feet tucked next to her. Bellamy grabbed her ankles and pulled her legs over his, bringing her closer to him. She squawked in surprise, but made no move to pull back. Maybe it was the shirt thing, but he was feeling extra possessive of Clarke right now, and needed to have physical contact with her; they did the casual touching before the kiss, so it meant he was still moving past it, right?

When they finished the movie, Clarke sat up and yawned. “Bed time,” she announced.

“You know where the bedroom is; I’ll grab some extra blankets and make up the couch for myself,” Bellamy said going to open the ottoman where he kept the blankets.

“Don’t be ridiculous! We’re at your place for once and that means you get your own bed. God knows you spend enough nights on our couch, I can spend one on yours,” Clarke argued, hands on her hips.

“You’re the guest, Princess, you get the bed,” Bellamy insisted.

“Nope. This is my bed for the night,” Clarke said, laying down on the couch.

“Clarke, please, just take the bed.”

“Nope, nada, no, not a chance. This couch as accepted me and I will not leave it.”

“Clarke I don’t know your middle name Griffin, you will take my bed. I’m trying to be a good host and gentleman, and I will not be thwarted.”

“Bellamy Oliver Blake,” Clarke said with a mischievous smile, having likely learned his middle name from Octavia. “You will only make your guest happy by sleeping in your own bed. Best to accept this now and move on before we both end up sleeping on the floor just to out stubborn the other.”

Bellamy laughed out loud, “We would totally do that too, wouldn’t we?”

Clarke joined in his laughter, “Yup, no doubt about it. So you’ll take your bed?”

“Ugh, fine! But I will hear nothing more of it.”

“Sounds good. Goodnight, Bellamy,” she said with a smile as he covered her with the blankets he had retrieved.

“Goodnight, Princess,” he replied and went to his bedroom.

He was just about to fall asleep when he heard his door creak open. “Bellamy?” Clarke called in a quiet tentative voice.

“Yeah,” he answered, his voice thick with sleep already.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t; I hadn’t fallen asleep yet.”

“Umm, so, Ghost Adventures was really truly a poor life choice, and now I’m freaking out even more because I’m not familiar with your apartment and the lighting and layout and such and yeah.” Clarke trailed off, stepping further into his room.

“So what are you saying, Princess?”

She mumbled something incoherent.

“Sorry, didn’t catch that,” he told her.

Barely above a whisper and quick as lightening Clarke murmured, “I was wondering if I could sleep in your bed tonight, with you. I just need to be near another living, breathing person nearby to feel safe.”

In response Bellamy only patted the bed next to him. She rushed over and crawled under the covers. “Thanks, Bell,” she told him. Right before she settled in she stiffened, “This isn’t going to be too weird, is it?” she panicked.

“Only if we make it weird,” he assured her, though his own heart was thumping at the idea of sleeping next to her.

“Okay, good,” she snuggled down in the bed. He also made himself comfortable, his back to her. Before long, Clarke’s breathing evened out to the rhythm of sleep.

He, however, tossed and turned, unable to stop thinking about her close proximity. At one point he was lying on his back when he heard a small murmur from beside him. Next thing he knew Clarke curled into his side, using his shoulder as a pillow and tossing one of her legs over one of his. He was wondered for a brief moment whether or not she was awake, but then he remembered Raven and Octavia teasing her about how she isn’t always big on hugs and affection until she was asleep. Then all measures of personal space were thrown out the window. He sighed happily, stretched his arm around her, tugging her in closer, and was asleep in seconds.

* * *

 Saturday rolled around, and Clarke was entering the Drop Ship for her shift with Bellamy. The past week they had spent nearly every night together since Tuesday; the first three had been at least under the pretense of Clarke being too freaked out to be in her apartment alone. Friday night however, Bellamy had a shift and had come in at nearly 4:00 in the morning. He had started to make up the couch, but before he finished, Clarke sleepily wandered out and dragged him by his hand into her room. All they ever did was cuddle and it was never discussed in the morning. Clarke was truly going to miss it when Octavia came home; there was no way she could use the excuse of being scared to be alone and Octavia would never let her live it down if she ever even heard of it.

“Well, well, well, look who decided to show up,” Bellamy teased.

“I’m fifteen minutes early for your information,” Clarke retorted. “And it looks like you’re so terribly busy.” It was quarter to nine and there was just a handful of people at the bar; the night usually didn’t start until 10:00, and only really got busy starting at 11:00.

Clarke put her stuff away and made sure everything was in order in the back room before heading out to the bar. “So, Mr. Boss Man,” she said with an extra dose of sarcasm at her nickname for Bellamy, “what’s on the agenda for tonight?”

“Well, Princess,” Bellamy emphasized her nickname, “we’re going to do some light inventory tonight—just a count on our most popular liquors—so we can let Lexa know if we need anything, we have a new DJ coming in any minute now, and then Dax will take over at midnight per usual. Other than that just don’t piss off any customers.”

“Please, they love me.”

“Not as much as they love me.”

“I do recall several instances in which guys have specifically requested _me_ over whoever I was working with, cough, cough, _you_.”

“Yeah, and I have no idea why that could possibly be,” Bellamy’s voice dripped with sarcasm, his eyes pointing to her chest, which definitely took advantage of the V-neck Drop Ship tee that she was wearing.

“Hey, a little light flirting and I basically have rent money from the tips if I get the right group of guys.”

“I make more in tips than you on any night. People prefer a _quality_ drink.”

“Bitch please, my drinks are fantastic, and I _definitely_ make more than you in tips.”

“You want to test that theory?”

“You’re on!”

“Wait, are we seriously doing this?” Bellamy asked, clarifying.

“Yes, yes we are,” Clarke affirmed.

“We should lay out some ground rules then…no stealing another person’s customer…”

“No throwing in an extra twist or something like that to persuade a bigger tip out of them.”

“Basically, just bartend like it’s a normal night and we’ll see who comes out on top?”

“Okay, what does the winner get? And it can’t be any part of the other’s money, because like I said, rent money.”

“Winner chooses after the final tally. I’m going to need the shift to think about my prize.”

“In your dreams, Blake! You’re going to be looking up at me from second place.”

Right then a guy approached the bar, Clarke quickly slipped past Bellamy. “What can I get for you?” she asked in a friendly manner.

He looked her up and down, “I’ll take your number, but I’m here to talk to Blake.”

She felt Bellamy slide up next to her, “Leave her alone, Murphy. She doesn’t need you sleezing all over her.”

“Sorry, Blake didn’t know she was yours,” the man responded.

“She’s not,” Bellamy told him, sounding reluctant.

“Then can I have her number?”

“No.”

The conversation was interrupted by Octavia bursting into the bar. “We’re back, bitches!” she shouted. A couple patrons crumbled, but the two bartenders smiled and called out a greeting.

“I’ll take her number too,” Murphy professed.

“Definitely not!” Bellamy growled, before adding, “Go ahead, Princess, I know you missed her, I’ll take care of Murphy.”

As Clarke made her way around the bar to greet her friend and Lincoln, she heard Murphy tell Bellamy, “Ahhh, the princess, I should have guessed.” Before Clarke could think too deeply about what that meant, she was enveloped in Octavia’s hug.

“I missed you sooo much!” Octavia said gleefully, tightening her grip on Clarke. “It was torture not having a phone to contact you people. How’s everyone doing? What did I miss?”

Prying herself from Octavia, she turned to Lincoln, “How did you put up with this for an entire week? She easy enough to stand when she can bug seven other people, but one on one? You have my sympathies.”

Lincoln chuckled, “It wasn’t so bad.” With the smile he gave Octavia in that moment, Clarke could see exactly how besotted he was with her friend.

“Hmph, I’m wonderful,” Octavia said. Taking out her phone she announced, “I’m calling up everyone and demanding their presence here tonight. Clarke, can you get us the usual?”

“Only if you give me a big tip.” At Octavia’s confused expression, Clarke explained, “Bell and I are having a competition to see who makes more in tips.”

“Oh, you and _Bell_ are having a competition?” Octavia waggled her eyebrows at Clarke’s use of Bellamy’s nickname that few people can use without him putting a stop to it.

“Do you want those drinks or not?” Clarke asked snarkily.

“Do you want my tip or not?” Octavia returned.

Clarke stuck her tongue out at her and retreated to the bar, Octavia and Lincoln following.

“Hey, big brother,” Octavia greeted. Murphy must have moved to a different spot because he was no longer sitting in his spot at the bar.

“Little sister,” Bellamy returned with a smile. “Lincoln,” he added with a nod of the head. Clarke looked on approvingly at the last bit. “How was the trip?”

Before Lincoln could say anything, Octavia was off at break-neck speeds describing all that they did and saw on the mountain and surrounding area. Before long Raven burst into The Drop Ship and basically tackled Octavia. Wick trailed along behind her. The two girls went off and started talking secretively about something, glancing at Clarke every once in a while. One time she made eye contact, and raised a brow in question. They just waved her off and continued talking. They were up to something, but Clarke would worry about it when she didn’t have to beat Bellamy in their tip competition.

As the night picked up, Clarke turned on the charm, being extra friendly and flirty, perhaps flaunting her breasts a little more than usual with the male customers.

In a brief moment of respite Bellamy leaned on the counter next to Clarke. “I know what you’re doing,” he told her.

“And what pray tell is that?” Clarke asked.

Bellamy just looked at her chest, “You’re practically spilling out of your shirt.”

“Am not! And it’s not like you’re any better; I haven’t seen someone flexing their muscles so much since I was at a frat party!”

“Agree to disagree?”

Clarke narrowed her eyes at him, “Fine. But, if you’re going to play it this way, be prepared to take it up a notch.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’ll see,” Clarke said pushing off the counter to help the next customer.

A little while later, Clarke looked over to see Bellamy flirting heavily with a group of girls in their twenties. On her way past him to grab a bottle of Jack Daniels, she grabbed his ass. He immediately looked at her, startled. She simply smiled coyly and blew him a kiss.

When she was at the register Bellamy came up next to her. “What the hell was that?” he asked quietly.

“Marking my territory,” she replied sweetly.

“Your territory?” he questioned incredulously.

“Girls aren’t going to tip a guy as well if they think he’s taken and they don’t have a chance with him,” Clarke explained with a self-satisfied smile and turned around to give the customer his change.

“Keep it,” the guy said with a wink.

“And that’s another seven for me,” Clarke told Bellamy, tucking the cash into her tip jar.

Bellamy glared at her slyly, “Well, if that’s how you’re going to play it…” and walked away.

When Clarke had a group of college guys flirting with her as she took their order, she felt one of Bellamy’s hand settle on her hip as he reached around her for a bottle of Captain Morgan with the other. Before he retreated back to making his drinks, he paused and Clarke knew that from over her shoulder he was giving the group in front of her a look telling them to back off.

While they were next at the registers, Clarke pouted at him, “Not fair. You’re more intimidating than me.”

“Shouldn’t have started a game you couldn’t finish,” was all he said. Flashing her a smirk, he returned to the demanding patrons.

It was push and pull all night, and soon it was last call. Just when they thought they had served the last customer, Lincoln came up. “What will it be?” Clarke asked him.

“Cranberry vodka and a Heineken, please,” he said.

“She’s got you wrapped around her finger, doesn’t she?” Clarke teased as she started mixing the drink while Bellamy got the beer and pulled off the top.

Bellamy handled the transaction and Clarke thought nothing of it, until Lincoln told him to keep the change. “Seriously, Lincoln? I did the hard part, he just got out a beer?”

“But I don’t have to win any favor from you,” Lincoln said with a playful tone. “Bellamy still needs a little convincing, and anything to help with that.”

Bellamy just laughed. Clarke put her hands on her hips. “If I lose this competition, I’m blaming you,” she threatened. Lincoln laughed as he walked away.

Clarke was wiping down the bar, while Bellamy turned on the lights to tell people the bar was closing. Octavia wandered over. “I’m spending the night at Lincoln’s,” she told Clarke.

“You literally just spent an entire week with him,” Clarke teased her drunk friend.

“But all my stuff is there from the flight, and we have to have welcome home sex,” Octavia explained with a slight slur.

“Did _not_ need to know that last bit,” Clarke laughed.

“Of course you did,” Octavia said with a wink. “Anyway, you, me, Bell, and Lincoln for lunch tomorrow?”

“Wow, expanding the Blake Sunday lunch party. How do you think, Bellamy’s going to feel about that?”

“Well, if he has a problem, you’ll calm him down like you always do.” Even drunk, Octavia managed a knowing smile. “See you tomorrow!” She said walking away before Clarke could even open her mouth to respond.

Once the bar cleared out, Bellamy locked the doors and came over to the bar, “Time to count it up,” he said with a smirk. “Oh what shall I ever do with my win?”

“Don’t count your birds before they’re in the basket,” Clarke warned.

“I think you’re mixing metaphors, or well clichés.”

“Whatever, get counting,” Clarke told him and started counting her own stash. “$218,” she announced proudly after she finished.

Bellamy looked up from his counting, “$216.”

“You’re kidding. You seriously just lost by two dollars?” Clarke asked gleefully.

“Nope, you lost by _one_ dollar,” he said with a coy smile. “I forgot to add Lincoln’s tip in.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I’m gonna kill him! Seriously?”

“One hundred percent. You want to double check my counting?” Bellamy looked quite smug.

Clarke grudgingly replied, “No, I trust you.” She couldn’t fucking believe it; what a cruel, cruel world she lived in.

“And for my winnings…” Bellamy dragged on in glee, “We’ll start off with you having to clean the bathrooms.” Clarke groaned. “And I get to choose the radio station, and I’ll think of something else when you’re finished with the bathrooms.”

Clarke grumbled as she went off to clean the bathrooms, which get terribly disgusting after a night of drunken people going in and out. However, when she finished this task and was just finishing cleaning the main floor, the radio personality came on, the only show that was halfway decent for the ridiculous hour. “Well, well, well, thanks for tuning in to Anything and Everything with Allen Evens. We’ve got a request for all you out there and still awake. Clarke is closing the local bar The Drop Ship and wants to dedicate this song to her co-worker.”

Bellamy looked up from restocking behind the bar; Clarke just shrugged her shoulders and smiled at him teasingly. The radio continued with Clarke’s voice, “Bellamy, though you may have won this round, I just wanted you to know something…”

A very recognizable guitar beat began, Bellamy started laughing. When the lyrics began, Clarke began to lip sync and dance, serenading him, “One way or another I’m gonna find ya; I’m gonna getcha, getcha, getcha, getcha…” She dramatically weaved her way through the tables over to the bar and Bellamy, swaying her hips and singing the whole way.

When the song finished with Clarke standing directly in front of him, Bellamy having laughed the whole time, he looked at her with a goofy grin and announced, “You are ridiculous.” Then he did something she definitely was not expecting, but not necessarily something she hadn’t been dying for him to do for the past week: he kissed her. And not a gentle kiss, soft like their first kiss; this was a hungry kiss.

Unlike the first time when it had begun as an accident, this kiss was purposeful and full of want. She gasped slightly at the suddenness of the kiss and Bellamy took full advantage, snaking his tongue to tangle with hers. But that half second of surprise was quickly over and she threaded her hands around his neck and into his hair, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. She felt his hands wrap around under her thighs and easily lift her onto the counter, where he settled in between her legs and pulled her flat against his chest, seeming to try to meld their bodies together.

She slipped her hands under his shirt and began tugging it upward, feeling his toned chest was an added pleasure. When he pulled away to allow her to pull his shirt over his head, between gasps for breath he huffed, “You’re good? You want this?”

Clarke smirked up at him, “Was I not the one who just took off your shirt?”

Bellamy barked a laugh before capturing her lips with his again. Pulling off her shirt to join his in a pile on the floor. The rest of their clothes soon followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it goes…sorry, but I can’t do smut. Allude to it, sure…maybe, I don’t know how well I pulled that off…but actually write it, yeah, that would probably just end horribly.


	12. Chapter 12

Clarke woke up on Sunday morning, the previous night’s activities came flooding back; she remembered the Drop Ship… _and_ the apartment doorway, the hallway, and finally her bedroom. You could say it was a good night. She rolled over expecting to find a sleeping Bellamy next to her, but was instead greeted by an empty, but still warm void. Her heart dropped.

 _Clarke_ , she told herself, _i_ _t’s fine. You’re fine. You’re a big girl. You know that Bellamy has a reputation for one night stands. You guys didn’t specify anything last night, and he doesn’t know that you have actual feelings for him, and that you didn’t want this to be a one-time thing. Chin up, don’t cry. You’re better than this, one man doesn’t make or break you_. A traitorous part of her brain answered, _He does if his name is Bellamy Blake_.

Sure, the past week whoever had woken up first would quietly get out of bed without waking the other—it had usually been her because her work started earlier—but whoever it was would always make sure to say good morning and good-bye to the other. She knew that this time was different for obvious reasons, but it she hadn’t expected him to just disappear.

She took a deep breath and started to climb out of bed. Right as she swung her feet to the floor, her bedroom door was pushed open. “Good morning, Princess. I made coffee,” Bellamy said cheerfully. Within the second, his face dropped and he rushed to put two coffee mugs on the dresser and hurried to the side of her bed, kneeling down and cupping her face in his hands, “Clarke, what’s the matter?” he asked, concerned. He wiped away a tear from her cheek that she hadn’t realized had fallen.

“It’s nothing. It’s stupid. Forget about it,” Clarke dismissed, trying to smile, but the worry of not knowing where he stood still nagging the back of her mind.

“Clearly, it’s not,” Bellamy insisted, forcing her to meet his eyes.

“When, when I woke up and you weren’t there, I, I thought you had left, like gone home, and…”

Bellamy brought his lips to hers. “Silly, Princess,” he laughed quietly. “I was just bringing you coffee because I’ve woken up here enough mornings to know that you don’t want to do anything until you have coffee.” He smiled at her, then added with a mischievous smirk, “And I have a couple activities in mind for this morning.”

Clarke let out a laugh, choosing to dismiss her worries at least for the moment. “Bellamy Blake! You are a crude, crude man.”

“The question is, did it work.”

“Why don’t you try your luck and find out?” It was Clarke’s turn to smirk as she pulled him onto the bed with her. Their coffees got cold long before they had a chance to drink them.

...

Still lying in bed with Bellamy, Clarke’s phone started to ring. “Don’t you dare answer that,” Bellamy warned.

She let it go to voicemail, but when it started to ring again, Clarke looked at the phone, “It’s your sister.”

“Then definitely don’t answer it.”

“Hello?” She answered the device.

“Hey, Clarke? Did Bellamy spend the night? He’s not picking up his phone, and I’m trying to plan this lunch thing.”

“Yeah, Bellamy spent the night,” Clarke told Octavia with a smile to the man who was now towering over her; as she lay on her back talking on the phone, he had one arm on either side of her head holding himself suspended over her.

“Okay, well, I was thinking me and Lincoln could just meet the two of you at the restaurant. Can I talk to Bell? He said he had a place he wanted to go.”

“You want to talk to Bellamy?” Clarke repeated, looking at the man in question. He shook his head and began kissing her neck, shoulder, and collarbone.

“Stop it,” Clarke scolded him quietly, covering the mouthpiece. Bellamy just smirked and continued. “He’s a little busy at the moment,” she told Octavia. Clarke felt his muffled laugh against her skin.

“Okay, well, can you ask him where he wants to go?” Octavia asked.

“Where do you want to go for lunch?” Clarke asked Bellamy. He looked at her, shrugged his shoulders, and continued his administrations. “Would you stop that?” she pushed him away playfully.

He actually stopped what he was doing, but only to smirk at her and say, “What are you going to do? Say, ‘Sorry, O, I can’t talk right now; your brother is about to eat me out;’ I don’t think so.” And with that his mouth started southward.

Clarke bit her lip. “He doesn’t care. Just pick somewhere and text it to me. Noon, right?” Clarke rushed, hoping her voice doesn’t sound as strained as it felt at making coherent sentences.

“Sounds good…Clarke? Are you okay?” Octavia answered, sounding concerned.

“Never better,” Clarke replied honestly. “See you at noon!” And hung up.

* * *

 It was Tuesday night, the entire group was gathered around Octavia and Clarke’s living room. Clarke sat at one end of the couch using the armrest as a back support, her feet in Octavia’s lap who as sitting next to her, Lincoln on Octavia’s other side; Bellamy sat in the armchair that was more or less facing Clarke. They had elected to keep their weekend activities to themselves, mostly on account of a certain bet and avoiding about a million I told you so’s. But that didn’t stop them from eyeing each other with knowing smiles.

The Sunday lunch had gone by swimmingly; Octavia was slightly taken aback by how much so, but Clarke and Bellamy had been too wrapped up in each other and as well as keeping the new developments in their relationship to themselves to either make a fuss or catch on to Octavia’s confusion. Octavia had repeatedly tried to get Clarke to tell her what she had told Bellamy to make him so happy and calm during the meal, but Clarke only ever shrugged and said something along the lines of, “I guess he’s just realizing you’re growing up and that you made a good decision with Lincoln.”

This Tuesday night, the group was chatting happily amongst themselves when Raven stood up suddenly. “I propose a new game!” she pronounced, producing a bottle of José Cuervo. “Truthful Tequila Tuesday! It’s like Truth or Dare, but either you answer the question truthfully or you take a shot of tequila.”

“Why don’t we just play Truth or Dare?” Wick asked.

“Because Octavia’s dares usually end up very badly for one or more parties,” Clarke told him, kicking at her friend lightly.

“I’m sorry I didn’t know that there was a police man around that corner, or that Dean Kane was going to come out of his house at that exact moment. I can’t predict the future!” Octavia attempted to defend herself in a tone that revealed she had apologized for this hundreds of times already.

“I need to hear these stories,” Lincoln chuckled, eager for an explanation.

“Well,” began Jasper, “once upon a time, it was a Saturday night before finals and it was raining, so studying was even more miserable. So, we decided to play Truth or Dare. Of course, we were also a few drinks in by then, as well, because who actually wants to study? Anyway, earlier in the week I had given Clarke and Octavia crap for watching musicals; they began torturing me with songs from them, so my brain was memorizing the words despite my conscious protests. I stupidly picked dare, and Octavia dared me to go outside and sing “Dancing in the Rain” in my underwear because it was conveniently raining that night. I complied, because one does not go against _The Dare_ , and was out in the rain dancing and singing in my whitey-tighties and around the corner strolls a police man; I was cited for a drunk and disorderly. The rest of the group just giggled from inside the door and did nothing to help me.” He looked accusingly at Octavia, Clarke, and Monty. Everyone else shared an uproarious laugh as the three accused mumbled apologies.

“Alright, alright. Ready for story two?” Clarke asked, quieting the group down. There was a resounding yes from those who had not gone to college with the four of them. “So, the dean of the college at Augie—I actually think he still is the dean—was Dean Marcus Kane. He was a bit of a hardass, though still friendly and nice, he just wouldn’t take your shit. Well, shortly after we had a prank war with Jasper and Monty—a story for another time, for those of you who don’t know it—one that the dean put an end to, we may or may not have been a little bitter. As a result, during a game of Truth or Dare Octavia dared me to go play ding-dong ditch at Kane’s house; he lived in the neighborhood. I was going along with it and was about to ring the doorbell when the dean walked out the front door. I made up some bullshit excuse about wanting to talk to him about the prank war and apologize for our juvenile behavior, and then got out of there as soon as I could. After that every time he saw us, he would greet me with a respectful head nod and glare at the rest of them, saying they should take a cue from me and take responsibility for their actions.” Another round of laughter roared through the apartment, Clarke joining in.

“So as a result, we are no longer allowed to play Truth or Dare,” Raven concluded.

“Alright,” Wick agreed. “I don’t need any run-ins with the law. Truth or Tequila it is.”

“So…” Raven began, searching for her first victim, “Clarke! What is the most orgasms you’ve had in a single night with a guy?”

“Whoa! We’re going _there_ already?” Clarke asked. “We don’t usually get to the dirty stuff till a few drinks in.”

“Answer the question or a shot of my good friend José Cuervo,” was all she replied.

“Umm…” Clarke began to run through her Saturday night, ticking them off on her fingers. “Does morning after count?” she asked, trying not to make eye contact with Bellamy who she noticed had a self-satisfied smirk on his face; she may or may not have professed he was the best sex she ever had as they were interlinked together before falling asleep.

“Hmmm…you intrigue me…but I’m going to say no,” Raven responded.

“Then it would come to five,” Clarke said, knowing her face was more than likely bright red.

“Who?” Octavia asked flabbergasted. “And why did I never hear of this?”

“That is two questions, and I believe it is my turn to ask someone a question. Plus anyway, it’s you who tells me about your sex life, not the other way around.”

“Wait, what?” Lincoln asked.

“Nothing, sweetheart,” Octavia assured him with a hand on his arm.

Clarke looked around the circle of friends, avoiding Bellamy, because she knew there was no way she could look at him with the confession she had just made.

“Lincoln, you’re new to the group; let’s learn a little bit about you.” Lincoln looked stoic and unfazed as was his usual manner. “What is your most embarrassing moment?”

Lincoln thought about it for a moment. “One time in college, I was home alone, all my roommates were in class or something. I was home alone, cooking my grandma’s favorite stroganoff recipe, I was playing music and singing and dancing along quite ridiculously. I thought I was home alone, and so I was literally dancing like no one was watching. The next thing I know, I turn around and standing at the glass door to the kitchen was my landlord. He had dropped by to make sure the heat was working alright for the coming winter. He was dropping off his smoking hot daughter after—”

“Hey!” Octavia interrupted.

“Not as hot as you,” Lincoln assured her before continuing with his story. “Anyway, since they lived in town, every time I went out to the bars, I would run into his daughter who would start singing the song I was listening to and without fail I would turn beet red.”

“What was the song?” Miller asked.

“Dancing Queen by ABBA,” Lincoln replied quietly.

The entire group started laughing for the third time that night. “You do know we’re never going to let you live that down, right?” Monty told him.

“Somehow, I guessed as much,” Lincoln replied. “My turn…Octavia.”

“Yes,” she responded, batting her eyelashes.

“What is the craziest thing you have ever done?”

Octavia immediately looked at Clarke who asked incredulously, “Why are you looking at me?”

“You know exactly why. You’re always the instigator of my craziest acts, though somehow, despite you planning them, you’re never the one caught or blamed.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Clarke told her friend, unable to hide her smile, knowing the truth of the words Octavia spoke.

“What have you gotten my sister into in the past, Princess? And why is this the first time I’ll be hearing about it?” Bellamy addressed from his spot across the room.

“She lives to tell the tale, now. Is that’s not what’s important?” Clarke said smiling at him. “Plus, you would have freaked out if you found out we had to run from the police in Cancun.”

“WHAT?” Bellamy exclaimed.

“Yup. Just like that.”

Octavia laughed. “I had almost forgotten about that one. Hmmm…good times, good times.”

“Can we hear that story, please?” Wick asked. “Octavia running from la policía somehow seems more believable than Clarke, but if I hear correctly it’s Clarke behind it all.”

“It is!” Octavia cried, excited that someone might actually believe Clarke’s role as the mastermind of her worst shenanigans. “Anyway, it was almost five years ago now, so Bell can calm the fuck down. But freshman year, Clarke and I went to Cancun for Spring Break. You know those hang-glider things that you use to jump off cliffs and whatever? Well, Clarke decided she wanted to try it.”

“Shoot me for wanting to fly,” Clarke said both defensively and dreamily.

“I agreed, but Clarke decided to circumvent the long lines at the big tourist places and found some locals who said they could help us. We didn’t know that these guys didn’t have a license for it and had stolen the equipment, but we were at the top of the cliff, having just finished our lesson. We were already strapped in and ready to go when the police showed up. Clarke, in her infinite wisdom, freaked out and instead of calmly talking to the police like you all would probably assume she would, she literally ran off the side of the cliff and started to hang-glide. I wasn’t about to be left behind, so I ran after her. We made it to the beach safely, ditched the gliders and booked it to the nearest area with people and were never caught by the police.”

Clarke was laughing so hard by this part of the story, her adrenaline pumping at the mere memory of the event, she developed a stitch in her side. The rest of the group were also chuckling. Bellamy spoke up, “You’re never taking my sister on vacation, again!” he proclaimed.

“Good thing we’re planning something for this summer, then,” Octavia barked at her brother in a fit of laughter.

“I will follow you and keep you in line,” he continued, protective brother coming to full light.

Clarke barked a laugh. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Let’s continue with the game,” Raven announced, trying to dissipate what she had mistaken for fighting tension which would have been more common several months ago; now, it was just Bellamy and Clarke making a silent challenge to the other, marking their patterned teasing fights that held no real malice behind them.

“Okay, okay,” Octavia looked around the group. “Wick! What is one thing you would change about your fiancé if you could?”

Without pause, Wick grabbed a shot glass from the table and threw it back.

“No, I want you to answer that!” Raven said, hitting him in the arm, and not playfully.

Wick, ever quick on his feet, said, “I couldn’t answer it truthfully because there isn’t one thing I would change about you.” He gave her a smile.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I will accept that answer…for now.”

“Bellamy!” Wick turned quickly to the next person to answer a question, eager to get the spotlight off himself. “The best sex you’ve ever had, I don’t need names or dates (too personal), just location.”

Bellamy looked directly at Clarke, “Behind the bar of the Drop Ship, then it continued in the doorway of her apartment, the hallway of her apartment, and finally several times in her bedroom.” Clarke felt her cheeks heating up rapidly. She broke eye contact to stare at the pillow that was in her lap, placing all her hopes on people looking at Bellamy rather than her.

“Wait! Behind the bar of the Drop Ship? Dude, we work back there! People get drinks from the liquor back there!” Jasper sounded appalled. “Now, that’s all I’m going to be thinking about when I go into work. Please tell me you cleaned thoroughly afterwards!”  
Bellamy just chuckled. “Calm yourself, Jasper. Worse things have happened behind that bar,” Monty told him.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Jasper turned on his lifelong friend.

“Yes?” Monty said, less sure of himself.

The night continued on, the group having fun, getting drunk, Clarke and Bellamy making eyes at each other and hoping no one else noticed.

* * *

 On Wednesday, Octavia’s phone rang while she was at work. “Octavia Blake, where can I help your dreams take you?” she greeted cheerfully.

“Seriously, that’s what you say?” Raven asked her in response.

Octavia’s demeanor changed immediately. “They make us say that,” she pouted.

“If you say so,” Raven said. “Anyway, discussing your work greeting is not why I called. So, Clarke and Bellamy last night?”

“I know! They were practically eye fucking each other last night!”

“Exactly! They just need to realize that they need to actually fuck!”

“Okay, too far. This is my brother we’re talking about, I do _not_ need those mental images to scar me for the rest of my life.”

“Eye fucking is alright to witness first hand and talk about it, but even the idea of your brother and your best friend actually going at it, turns you off? You’re in the bet for when they do exactly that! Granted you already lost, but…”

“Shut up. Don’t try to reason out my logic. And now my boss is looking at me funny through the window. So, either set up an appointment for planning your honeymoon or get off the phone.”

“Wait. I actually did want to do that,” Raven told her.

“Good. Because I was going to kill you and Wick if you didn’t at least consult me.”

* * *

 After her Thursday night shift, Clarke waved good-bye to Sterling, the bouncer who had helped clean after a rowdy night. As soon as he and his car were out of sight, Clarke felt Bellamy’s hand slide onto her hips from behind and turn her so she faced him. She settled happily into the kiss the followed.

“When Jasper said he had gotten someone to cover his shift, I had thought it was going to be Monty,” Bellamy said after breaking the kiss.

“I hope you weren’t planning on kissing Monty like that for filling in for Jasper, I might start to think you had a thing for all your co-workers,” Clarke teased, taking his hand in hers and beginning to walk back to the apartment.

Bellamy made a face at her. “No, that was all for you; it’d been too long since I saw you.”

“You literally saw me two days ago.”

“Yeah, but that was two days too long, and I couldn’t kiss you then,” Bellamy told her, pulling her back from their walking into another kiss.

Clarke laughed as she broke the kiss. “Who knew you were so needy?” she joked. He slid his arm around her waist and continued their walk back to the apartment.

Suddenly his face dropped. “Huh?” Clarke asked.

“I just realized that I’m going to be sleeping on the couch twenty feet from you instead of right next to you, just so Octavia doesn’t freak out when I’m not on the couch when she wakes up in the morning.”

“You could always just text her that you’re crashing at Miller’s or Murphy’s or someone’s and not to worry…” Clarke suggested with an impish smile.

“Why do I get the feeling you had this idea before I even brought it up?” Bellamy returned her rascally smile.

“Because maybe I got the idea while we were working and already reasoned out that Octavia knows that I don’t have the Conservation Center tomorrow and because I worked tonight I would murder her if she opened my door or woke me up in the morning before she leaves for work.”

Bellamy laughed, “You know, I’m starting to believe Octavia that you’re the real mastermind behind all her schemes and adventures.”

“Hey, I may come up with the ideas, but she’s the one who puts them into action.”

“That’s us Blakes, we’re doers.”

“So are you going to ‘do’ my plan then?”

“And that’s not all I plan on _doing_ tonight either,” he said, pinching her side where his hand was resting and causing her to squirm further into him.

“You are so vulgar!” Clarke said with a laugh.

She was truly glad that things with Bellamy were seeming to go on the track she wanted. They had texted every day this week, with a few phone calls dotted in, and there had definitely been a more flirtatious tone to these interactions than in the past. And now she _knew_ that her and Bellamy weren’t just a one night thing. Yet they still hadn’t talked about _what_ exactly they were despite the fact that they were keeping it—whatever it was—to themselves for now; she decided to leave that worry for another time. 

* * *

 

The next night Raven insisted that they go out sans men. She had just booked the venue for her wedding. They were given the choice of either a date three months away (a result of a recent cancellation) or a year and a half away. At the moment, Raven had thought it was a good idea to just choose the earlier one because she didn’t want to wait, now she was freaking out about all the details that needed planning and just wanted to have a final worry free night out with her friends.

“Yeah, Rae, I don’t know if it counts as a girls’ night without the guys if the two bartenders at the bar you choose are Bellamy and Monty,” Octavia said as they walked into the Drop Ship.

“Hey, we know this bar, we like this bar, and I’m not trying out some new place when I know I can have a good time here,” Raven defended her choice.

“I’ll go get us some drinks,” Clarke told them, eyeing a particular bartender.

“Shots too!” Raven called after her.

No sooner had Clarke picked an empty bar stool then Bellamy stopped in front of her with a flirtatious half-smile. “Let me guess, a whiskey sour, a rum and coke, and a cranberry vodka?”

“You forgot the shots. But shouldn’t you be helping someone else who got here before me?”

“Nope, I’m giving you special treatment,” he replied with a smile and started making mixed drinks.

“Hmmm, and what does this special treatment include?” she replied playfully.

“Let’s see, you get served first when you come to the bar…um, that’s all I got for the moment.”

“And does this special treatment extend to your sister or Raven?”

“Just you,” he smiled at her.

“And what exactly are the requirements to get these privileges?”

“I have a few ideas in mind,” Bellamy said with a wink.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. We’re in public, you’re working, and I’m out with your sister. Inappropriate, Mr. Blake,” Clarke reprimanded with a huge smile on her face.

Bellamy mirrored her smile. “Here are your drinks. We’ll work out the payment for the quick service later.”

“Looking forward to it,” Clarke said, returning his earlier wink and going back to Raven and Octavia.

* * *

Bellamy continued to work the bar, glancing up to find Clarke, Octavia, and Raven every once in a while. A smile was plastered on his face from every time he looked up to find Clarke looking back at him.

He walked over to the next patron. “What can I get you?” he asked.

“I’ll take a Jack and Coke, but can I also ask you a question?”

“Yeah, sure,” Bellamy responded, unsure of what was going to be asked.

“That blonde you were talking to earlier, the one that’s with the two brunettes over there,” he said pointing to Clarke, Octavia, and Raven who were sitting at a table chatting. “Is she single?”

Bellamy became very aware of both the fact that Monty was standing a foot away and could hear the entire conversation and more strongly he was aware that he and Clarke had never exactly defined what they were to each other now. He knew he wanted to make things more permanent and keep going in the direction they were headed on now, but he had no idea where she stood. “I…ummm…she’s single as far as I know,” he ended up saying, reluctant, his mind full of uncertainty.

“Great!” the guy returned, grabbing his drink, throwing a $10 on the counter, and making his way over to where Clarke was sitting.

Bellamy immediately started mentally kicking himself in the ass. Now that guy was going to ask Clarke out and that was the absolute last thing he wanted. Then the thought struck him: if Clarke said “no” to the guy, maybe it would mean that she wanted to continue whatever it was that they were and if she said “yes” she probably just saw them as a fling. The thought calmed him down for a bit and he helped the next customer, while keeping an eye on their table. The guy was currently talking to Clarke, he gestured to the bar and Clarke quickly looked at Bellamy over his shoulder. Bellamy couldn’t read the expression on her face over the distance and multitude of people in between, but was happy when the guy walked away from the table and over to his friends. Bellamy went back to work, believing a disaster avoided.

* * *

 Clarke sat back into her chair, and tried to hide her emotions from her friends. It wasn’t out of the ordinary that a guy would come talk to her while at the bar, or that he would ask her out. What had thrown her off was that the guy had said that he had asked the bartender, specifying the taller one with curly hair, if she was seeing anyone, and said bartender had told him she was single. Although her and Bellamy hadn’t specifically said anything to define their relationship, she had thought he at the very least would have not wanted her to go on a date with another guy. But apparently she was wrong. And with Raven and Octavia sitting right there, she was even more determined not to let anything slip, so she said “yes.” If Bellamy was telling other people to go ahead and ask her out, then he evidently didn’t care if she dated other people. And she was _not_ going to be the type of girl to sit at home and pine after a guy who didn’t want her…no matter how much that’s what she wanted to do right now. She refused to be the one to go get drinks for the rest of the night.


	13. Chapter 13

Clarke was sitting in her room in front of her mirror on Saturday when her phone went off.

Bellamy Blake  
What are you doing tonight?  
4:42 pm

Clarke scoffed. He’s kidding right? She typed a short reply.

Going on a date.  
4:43 pm

She continued with her make-up, Myles would be there to pick her up in forty-five minutes. Once she finished, she checked her phone, still no response from Bellamy. She put her phone back down and worked on her hair before finally giving up and leaving it down. With only ten minutes until her date was to arrive, Clarke looked forlornly at her closet. She had no indication of where they were going or what they were doing, so she didn’t know whether to dress up or down. Ending up with dark jeans and a sapphire blue shirt, she slipped on some flats and went to wait in the living room. She checked her phone, but Bellamy still hadn’t said anything. Trying to be the bigger person, because _he_ was the one who basically told her to go on a date with Myles, Clarke fired off another message to him.

What are your plans?  
5:29 pm

Five minutes later there was a buzz on the intercom. Clarke just grabbed her purse and went to meet Myles on the steps, rather than him come all the way up, only to go back down.

“Hey Clarke,” he greeted her as she emerged from the building. “Sorry, I’m late. My dog insisted on a walk before I left and I didn’t keep track of the time.”

“No worries. You’re here now,” Clarke replied.

Myles smiled happily. “Shall we?” he asked, offering his arm and gesturing to the car that was parallel parked in front of them.

“We shall.”

Sitting in the car on the way to the restaurant, Clarke checked her phone again. What was with Bellamy? _He_ was the one who had texted _her_. “Clarke?” Myles asked, clearly waiting for an answer.

“Sorry, zoned out for a moment; what did you ask?”  
“I was just asking where you went to college and what you studied.”

“Oh, yeah. I went to Augustana College, out in the Quad Cities, Illinois-Iowa border. I was Bio/Pre-Med with a minor in Art.”

“That’s an interesting combination. So are you in Medical School now?”

Clarke flinched, brought back to too many conversations with her mother. “No, actually, I work at an art conservation center and I’ll be going back to school to get my Masters to further a career in that.”

“Wow. What brought on the change in heart?” Myles asked. He really was a nice guy, he just didn’t know how touchy of a subject this was for Clarke because of her mother and all the following drama.

“I don’t know. I just realized that my heart wasn’t really into medicine. Don’t get me wrong, I love helping people and healing, but it was more something my mother wanted for me than what I wanted for myself.”

“Oh I see,” Myles said, clearly not understanding what Clarke was getting at.

She quickly turned the focus on him, “So how about you?”

“Went to Texas A & M for engineering,” he said proudly.

“And I didn’t even detect an accent,” Clarke teased.

“I’m not from Texas, I only went to school there,” Myles explained, missing that Clarke already knew that from the “where are you from?” conversation from two minutes ago.

The car went silent for another moment. Clarke got out her phone and composed another message.

What? Did you lose your phone?  
5:53 pm

“Here we are,” Myles announced, pulling into an Olive Garden parking lot. Clarke tried not to laugh; a couple weeks ago her and Bellamy had joked that Olive Garden was the most clichéd date ever, the only thing that could make it worse was if—

Her thoughts were interrupted by Myles talking. “—and then maybe we can hit up a movie theater,” Myles added. Clarke had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at the mention of the other half of the clichéd date. She would have to tell Bellamy about this, if only he would answer his damn text messages.

The dinner continued, and Clarke would say it was mediocre at best. There was far from anything like a spark and it was as far away as possible from what she got when she was just hanging out with Bellamy.

Throughout the dinner, she subtly checked her phone, but she never got a response from him. The conversation began with his question, and was followed by message after message from her.

Two words: Olive Garden  
6:01 pm

He just tried to order in Italian…Does  
he even know where we are?  
6:17 pm

Come on. No response to that either?  
6:34 pm

Please, save me. How long does it take  
to gut yourself with a dessert spoon?  
6:41

Seriously, Bell, where you at?  
6:58 pm

 ...

She convinced Myles that she was simply too tired to go see a movie tonight and asked if he could just drop her at home. When they almost at her apartment, she finally got a response from Bellamy.

Get the message, Clarke. I’m  
not in the mood to talk.  
7:19 pm

You’re the one who texted me  
first!  
7:19 pm

It was a mistake.  
7:26 pm

 _Mistake, my ass!_ Clarke thought to herself. Next thing she knew Myles was opening the car door for her. She smiled at him and got out. He walked her to the apartment building where she stalled by the door. “I, uh, had a great time,” Clarke said, not fully meaning it.

“Me too!” Myles replied eagerly. There was a brief pause of awkward silence before he started to lean in for a kiss.

Clarke immediately did swooped to avoid it and pulled him into a terribly awkward hug. “So, yeah, bye!” she said.

“I’ll call you!” he replied.

Clarke gave him a tight lipped smile in response, her mind still running over Bellamy’s text message. She entered the building and got out her phone to call him.

When it rang through to voicemail, she redialed without delay; this time it was cut off, him dismissing her call.

“Fuck this,” Clarke said to herself, and rooted around her purse for her keys she hoped were still in there. Luck was on her side and she marched into the parking garage to get her car. It’s a hell of a lot harder to ignore someone who’s standing at your door.

* * *

 Bellamy sat in his living room. If anyone accused him of wallowing, he would have vehemently denied it, but that was what he was doing. He couldn’t believe Clarke had gone on that date. He had thought they had something between them, but apparently he was wrong. This was why he never let people get close; just when you thought everything was going well, they would let you down. And then on top of it, she had just kept texting him and then trying to call after he said he didn’t want to talk.

He heard a knock on his door. Who was there at 8:00 at night, he didn’t know. Probably his neighbor asking him for something or another. He got up and opened the door. Before he could even properly see who it was, a blonde streak was pushing past him into his apartment.

Clarke whirled on him. “Bellamy Blake, why are you not taking my calls?” she demanded.

“I just don’t feel like talking right now. A man is allowed some time to himself, is he not?” Bellamy defended, his hackles raising at the accusatory tone in her voice.

“You’re the one who texted me!”

“You said you were going on a date!”

“Yeah, one that you told me to go on!”

“When did I do that? Because I sure as hell don’t remember doing it!”

“At the bar last night!” When Bellamy just stared at her and shook his head incredulously, she continued. “Myles came over and said that you said that I wasn’t seeing anyone!”

“And that’s me telling you to go on a date?”

“Yeah, if you hadn’t wanted me to go on that date, you just had to tell the guy I was taken. More specifically you should have said that I was dating you!”

“We had said that we weren’t telling people about us, whatever we are!” Bellamy defended. “Plus Monty was literally standing right there!”

“You could have pulled it off like you were protecting me from some creep that wanted to hit on me, if you were really that worried!” Clarke was screaming at him by now.

“Well, you didn’t have to say yes to him!” Bellamy turned the tables on her.

“Oh, and what was I supposed to do? Sit at home? You clearly wanted me dating other people, even if I didn’t, so why shouldn’t I at least try?”

“I don’t want you dating other people!” Bellamy yelled at her.

“Then why the fuck didn’t you say so?” Clarke shouted back.

“We said we weren’t telling people!” Bellamy let out a cry of frustration. “We literally just had this argument two seconds ago!”

Clarke and he were both breathing heavily staring at each other practically nose to nose. Bellamy replayed the last bit of their shouting match in his head. He felt his lips twitch up into a smile.

“What are you smiling at?” Clarke snarled at him.

“You don’t want to date other people?” Bellamy asked her, his voice much quieter and softer than before.

“No,” she answered, shaking her head.

“I don’t want to date other people,” he told her his smile growing.

He could tell that she was trying to stop the smile that was creeping its way onto her face. “What are you saying, Bell?”

“You remember that favor you owe me from saving your ass from Craig-what’s-his-face?”

Clarke nodded, a confused look gracing her features.

“Well, I’m calling it in,” his smile became one of teasing and slyness.

“Oh, really now?” Clarke asked, her voice light and back to their usual bantering tones. “And what, pray tell, is this thing you ask of me?”

“Kiss me. Kiss me, Clarke Griffin.”

“I’ve never been so happy to fulfill a favor in my life,” Clarke told him and pulled him by the back of his neck down to his her. The kiss they shared was full of want and need and happiness. His heart leapt for joy in his chest and he pulled her close, never wanting to let go.

Eventually, she pulled back to collect her breath, though he didn’t release his hold on her. She smiled up at him, stopping him from continuing the kiss. “Bellamy Blake,” she said all officially. “Will you—god, I feel like such a dork—will you be my boyfriend? And not go on dates or anything with any other girl and I won’t go out with any other people, either. And, and, yeah. No more confusion.”

“Nothing would make me happier,” Bellamy replied, rejoining their lips in a kiss, which quickly deepened and he began edging her back to the bedroom.

... 

Clarke and Bellamy’s revelry was interrupted by a loud banging on the door. They looked at each other, confused. Bellamy reached for his boxers and put them on before heading to answer the door. Clarke pulled out one of Bellamy’s oversized shirts, before padding out after him.

Before she had gotten out of the hallway, she heard Octavia’s voice, loud and panicked, “Bellamy! Why weren’t you answering your phone? Anyway that’s not important. Have you seen or heard from Clarke? I saw her pull up to the building after her date, but she never came up to the apartment. She’s not answering her phone, her car is gone, and she would have let me know if she was going anywhere after.”

Clarke coughed quietly from the end of the hallway. “Present,” she said, raising her hand sheepishly.

Octavia rushed over to her and pulled her into a hug, “Oh, thank god! I had Raven and Wick and Lincoln and everyone out looking for you and oh my god, did you two just—? We’re you in the middle of—? Oh my god!”

Clarke looked at her friend, blushing she walked over to snuggle into Bellamy’s arms who had come to stand next to her. “Maaayybeee,” Clarke drew out the word.

From the hall they heard voices. “You know we really should coordinate our Clarke Search Party better. We’re all at the same place, looking for the help of the same person,” Raven’s voice came. Soon the person attached to the voice walked in through the open doorway, followed by Jasper, Monty, Lincoln, and Miller.

“Found her,” Jasper said, pointing at Clarke who was tucked into Bellamy.

“Oh my god!” Raven cried, echoing Octavia’s earlier exclamations.

“Does this mean I win the bet?” Monty asked.

Clarke rolled her eyes at her friends. This was definitely not the ideal way she would have liked to tell her friends, but with their group it was probably inevitable.

“Technically, whoever had last Saturday won,” Bellamy told them unabashedly.

“Wait, who had last Saturday?” Raven asked, looking around the group.

“That would be me,” Lincoln announced from the back of the group.

“So with that last tip?” Clarke asked, an idea forming in her head.

“I was trying to egg on the tension between you two,” he admitted. “I hoped it would manifest into something, and, well…”

Of all people, it was Bellamy who started laughing. “I think I may owe you a thank you,” he chuckled.

“Hold your horses,” Wick said, thinking about something. “Does that mean, during Truthful Tequila Tuesday…?”

Clarke and Bellamy just looked at each other, smiled, looked back to their friends and nodded.

Octavia covered her ears with her hands, “La la la la la! I’m not listening! I’m going to have to bleach our entire apartment! La la la la la!” The rest of the group laughed at her antics.

“Now, if you all don’t mind,” Bellamy said pointedly, “I’d like to get back to my night with my girlfriend.” Clarke’s heart fluttered at those words, specifically the last one. She got up on her tippy-toes and kissed him on the cheek. Having none of that, Bellamy pulled her in for a proper kiss. Octavia led the charge out of Bellamy’s apartment, her la-las having gotten louder as her brother spoke.

Once alone again, Clarke pulled Bellamy into another kiss. “Say it again,” she told him.

“Say what, Princess?” he asked.

“Call me your girlfriend.”

“Hmmm…about that…” he teased. Clarke smacked him in the arm and gave him a reprimanding look. “You know I would do anything for my girlfriend,” he smiled at her.

She looked up at him very satisfied. And pulled him in for a kiss. A kiss that led to them not leaving the apartment for the rest of the weekend, happy in the post official couple bliss.


	14. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a (very) short Epilogue that is just putting to page a cute scene I saw for our favorite couple. Bellarke!

Clarke was curled up on the couch watching a movie with Bellamy. She was tucked into his side, her head resting on his shoulder, a typical night for them. She sat up suddenly, fed up with her headrest constantly moving. She turned to face the offending party. “Seriously, Bell, I’ve never seen someone so fidgety and jumpy since the tarantula that Lincoln brought back escaped and Octavia didn’t know where it was. What’s up?”

Bellamy fidgeting some more, his right hand fingering something in the pocket of his jeans. “So you remember that time that I saved you from the run-in with Finn on your birthday two years ago?”

“Yeah,” Clarke said, shaking her head in confusion.

“And you remember how I said you owed me for my help?”

“Mhmmm,” she acknowledged, catching on to where this was going.

“Marry me. Marry me, Clarke Griffin,” he said, pulling out a beautiful engagement ring from his pocket.

“Oh, yes. This is the story I’ve always dreamed about telling…You know, kids, I only married your father because I owed him a favor. One time he saved me from a really awkward situation with an ex-boyfriend, and he said that I owed him for his help. And now because of that, I’m stuck with him for the rest of my life,” Clarke teased.

“So is that a yes?” Bellamy questioned.

“Of course it is, you dumbass! Was I not just telling this story to our ‘kids’?”

Bellamy smiled and pulled her into a kiss before slipping the ring on her finger.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, Kudos and comments are without fail appreciated. Seriously, they make my day.
> 
> Also, I finally broke down and got a [Tumblr](https://dracoterrae9099.tumblr.com/). I really don't know what I'm doing (technologically challenged and socially awkward over here; please don't judge me). But feel free to come chat at me about Bellarke or my stories or basically anything.


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